


Woman Up

by SeeThemFlying



Series: The Ice Cream Anthology [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blind Date, Confusion and Mayhem, Creepy Tormund, F/M, First Date, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Modern AU, No Twincest, Past Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 57,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: When Jaime Lannister meets Daenerys Targaryen on a blind date, he feels an instant connection…When Brienne Tarth gets mistaken for a 24-year-old triathlon runner called Daenerys Targaryen, the intended blind date of the most attractive man she’s ever seen, she decides to go with it…Loosely based on a certain 2015 Simon Pegg film...





	1. Blind Date

**Author's Note:**

> So... having finished "A Big Cop in a Small Town", I'm moving on to adapting another Simon Pegg film for Jaime and Brienne. This is not another from the Cornetto Trilogy (who knows, perhaps they are coming in the future!) but a lesser known 2015 film. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos make me supremely happy!

Even though his mouth was moving, Brienne wasn’t picking up a single word of what her date was saying.

Something about stick insects…

And then the exact layout of the spreadsheets he used at work…

And how he hated historical re-enactments in documentaries…

After listening him drone on and on about nothing in particular for an hour, he eventually asked her, “so, what do you do?”

“Oh…” she said, zoning back into the conversation. “I’m an IT consultant.”

As she started to explain where she worked, he got his phone out and she could see he had started playing _Candy Crush_. She stopped talking and took a sip of her beer, and he didn’t notice until he had completed the level.

_Thanks for this one, Dad,_ she thought bitterly, taking a bitter gulp of _Stella Artois_.

He finished the level. “Oh, sorry, what were you saying?”

“Nothing important,” she said, suddenly deciding that downing her drink was the best policy. Once she was done, she wiped the foam off her top lip. “So… I’m probably going to go…”

“Go?” he said, a little confused. “But don’t you want to go get dinner?”

“Nah,” she replied, putting on her faded leather jacket. She was far too old to give time to blokes who didn’t deserve it. “I’ve got to go and catch a train.”

“But my Mum said she thought we’d have a lot in common!”

Brienne’s dad was colleagues with errr… what’s his name’s mum and, as both their children were nearing thirty five with no prospect of a spouse or children, Selwyn and Roelle had decided to set their kids up on a blind date. Brienne had only agreed to keep her dad happy; she’d let him _think_ she was trying to find someone, even if she knew in her heart of hearts that she was doomed to die alone.

“No offence,” said Brienne. “but I don’t think we are compatible.”

Picking up her satchel, she made to go, but her date stood up, barring her route to the exit.

“Well, goodbye then,” he said.

“Ta ra,” she replied, in a way she hoped was rude enough that he would get the message.

Of course, he didn’t get the message.

In an awkward lunge, he leant forward to kiss her, and Brienne had to lean back – _Matrix_ style – in order to avoid his very adventurous tongue. When he only succeeded in licking the tip of her nose, he finally gave up trying to stick his slimy worm tongue down her throat, and she shuffled past him to the pub exit.

_No more dates,_ she told herself. _Not even if my dad’s dying wish is for me to get married and have fifteen kids._ _No more suitors._

* * *

Escaping the pub, she made her way straight to the train station. She had only come down to Hampshire to visit her dad for a couple of days and needed to get back to London quickly. Later that evening, Ned and Catelyn Stark were having their thirty fifth wedding anniversary party and Brienne was one of the VIP guests. Sansa Stark had been Brienne’s best friend since the latter had protected the former from a psycho three year old called Ramsay in pre-school, so she had practically grown up in the Stark’s house. The feeling that Brienne was one of the family had only become even more intense when Brienne’s dad had left London for Hampshire after Brienne and Sansa graduated, and Brienne had spent a few years as the Stark’s lodger. Her closeness to the whole family was reflected in the fact she had been asked to give one of the speeches.

Which, of course, she hadn’t written yet.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Ned and Cat, it was just that work had been so stressful recently. The start-up company she worked for, _Sapphire_, which worked on producing eco-friendly disposable water bottles, had just had a major IT system overhaul, and Brienne had been forced to work night and day to get everything working. _Sapphire_ only hired two IT consultants and the other, Oberyn Martell, spent more time shagging the interns than doing any actual work, so Brienne had taken on most of the tasks herself. She didn’t begrudge it; she truly believed in the need for eco-friendly water bottles, and it was her duty to do her job to the best of her ability to help that noble cause.

It just meant she had no time to do anything else with her life.

Arriving on the train platform, she was surprised to find it was fairly empty. There were only two people other than herself; the first was an old man in a flat cap who was puffing away on a cigar, while the second was an extraordinarily beautiful young woman with flowing white-blonde hair. She was wearing a sky blue summer dress, a denim jacket, and a pair of delicate sandals. Brienne couldn’t help but feel hulking in comparison; she had her boots on, her black skinny jeans, her _The Clash_ t-shirt, her old leather jacket, and too much eyeliner. Ambitious plans meant she had a dress in her bag that she was planning to change into once she got into the Starks but, even so, a familiar sense of inadequacy was set to overwhelm her. Luckily, she was knocked out of her anxious spiral by her phone ringing.

“Hey!” It was Sansa. She sounded a bit tired.

“Hi, how’s set up going?”

“Well, the cake is here,” said Sansa, trying to sound cheerful. “Robb has managed to keep Mum and Dad out all day, so they have no clue. I’ve spent the afternoon with Bran and Rickon putting up decorations… I have no idea where Arya is. We lost Sandor for a while because he was having a fight with our caterer, but he’s back now… Sandor, say hi to Brienne.”

“Hi,” growled Sansa’s unconventional husband down the phone.

“Hi.” With that, Sandor passed the phone back to Sansa.

“So…” said Brienne’s friend. “How was the date?”

Brienne tsked. “How do you think? Fucking awful, as always.”

Sansa sighed. “Brienne, you really have to be more positive about these things.”

“Would you be positive if you had just wasted an hour and a half talking to a thirty five year old man about stick insects? No, I don’t think you would.”

“Okay,” said Sansa, “_this_ date was bad, but it doesn’t mean every date you ever go on will be bad.”

“Yes it does,” replied Brienne, scratching at the nasty scar on her cheek. “I love you Sansa, but you are speaking from a place of privilege. You were born pretty, so your dating life was full of interesting and handsome men who were lovely to you in the hope they would get into your knickers. I’m ugly, so I have the bottom of the barrel men thinking they are doing me a favour by asking me out and they treat me accordingly.”

She could almost hear Sansa rolling her eyes. “You’ve got to stop talking yourself down like this.”

“_Hello_, welcome to reality Sansa,” Brienne said as her train pulled into the station. “I _am_ ugly, it is a fact of life and, let’s be honest, what you look like is all people care about. There’s a reason why the Phantom of the Opera lived in a basement and Quasimodo was stuck up a bell tower.”

“Don’t compare yourself to the Phantom and Quasimodo…”

Brienne continued, ignoring her friend’s opposition. “When I try dating, I can only get guys who are rude to me or disinterested, because they think I should be an easy lay. They think I should be _grateful_ that they want to shove their cocks in me. But I’m not an easy lay, Sansa. I want love and commitment just like anyone else and, if I can’t get that, I’m happy to let my eight year dry spell continue. It at least means I never need to bother waxing.”

“But you’ve got to have hope and if you’ve got hope, you should go on more dates.” Why did Sansa always insist on sounding like a self-help guru? After all, Brienne had thrown all hope out the window when her only proper relationship – her six month one with Hyle eight years ago – had come to an end after she found he was cheating on her with a stripper.

“I don’t have hope. This is just my life and I’m fine with it. I went on this date for my dad, but now, I’m going to go back to doing what I was doing before – accepting that love is just not for me and finding comfort in chocolate.”

Sansa sighed again at that. “Alright, but I think you are wrong. Real human contact cannot be replaced by chocolate.”

“I know it can’t,” said Brienne a little sadly. “But when no one wants to touch me, what can I do?” At that, the train stopped. Brienne could see it was fairly full, so she was glad she had reserved a seat. Climbing aboard, she began shuffling down the aisle, looking for 14B. “Sorry Sansa, the train has just arrived. I’ll message you later, okay?”

“Okay. Let me know if there are any issues. It all kicks off about eight. Sandor can probably come pick you up from the station.”

“Cool. See ya.”

Hanging up, she stuffed her phone in her satchel, finally locating 14B. She was pleased to see the seat next to it was empty; being six foot three, it was a blessed relief. Getting into a ridiculous man-spread, Brienne got out the sleek, black leather notebook she had bought to write her speech in. Eventually, she found a crappy biro and, using her satchel as a table, wrote “IDEAS” in big letters. She surmised that bullet pointing a few thoughts first was probably the best approach rather than diving straight in.

A moment later, however, Brienne was hit by a waft of perfume that made her cough.

“Excuse me,” came a smooth, sweet voice.

Brienne turned around to see the blonde haired vision from the platform. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled, “I’m sorry, but I’m seat 14A. Can you possibly shuffle across?”

Brienne sighed. So much for legroom. Squeezing up against the window, Brienne gave way so this tiny dot of a woman could steal some of her space. In thanks, the woman smiled and looked like she was about to say something. Brienne turned back down to her notebook – she did not do small talk. However, the woman (and perhaps the universe) clearly did not want Brienne to start writing her speech.

“Thanks, I’m glad sitting next to a _Clash_ fan for this journey,” she said, pointing at Brienne’s T-shirt, just as the train set off. “Where are you headed?”

Brienne almost groaned. “London Waterloo. It’s where we are all going.”

The woman laughed. “Very droll. Whereabouts in London?”

“Clapham. I’m going to a party,” replied Brienne reluctantly. “You?”

The woman’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “The big clock at London Waterloo. I’m meeting a blind date there.”

_Oh god,_ thought Brienne. _Chatty Cathy is a hopeless romantic. I’m trapped._

“Mmmm…” said Brienne, trying to turn back to her notebook.

“I’m Daenerys Targaryen by the way,” said the woman, extending her hand, clearly not picking up the signals.

“Brienne Tarth,” she replied, giving Daenerys a quick, firm handshake which she hoped would silence her. Within two seconds, however, Brienne knew that was a huge mistake as Daenerys took this as an opportunity to start running her mouth off about her date.

_Fucking hell,_ thought Brienne. _Can I not sit on a train and write a speech in peace?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! It is always difficult to start writing a new fic, so I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know with a lovely comment or kudos.
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne has to endure a train journey sat next to Daenerys Targaryen.


	2. Chatty Cathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's train journey is not quite so peaceful as she would have hoped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for Chapter 2! Please let me know what you think with comments and kudos, they make me greatly happy!

_Thirty Five Years of Luck,_ Brienne wrote down, remembering Ned Stark’s phrase for describing his relationship with his wife. The Starks had met when Cat was planning to go on a second date with Ned’s older brother. Brandon was meant to pick up her from the restaurant where she worked to take her to the cinema, but when his car had broken down, he had sent Ned to collect her instead.

“Luck,” Ned would say wistfully. “I am so lucky that Brandon’s car broke down that day.”

“You totally threw a spanner in the engine,” Cat would chuckle.

Brienne knew that would be a fun and light-hearted story to start with in her speech, so she underlined it. She tried to think of something else, but found her thoughts interrupted by Daenerys Targaryen talking… and talking… and talking…

“… I work in publishing, and my colleague Ty recently signed this brilliant young new author. Her book has become a best seller. It’s this one I’ve got here – _Six Billion People_ _and You._ It’s all about dating in the modern world, where our options can seem almost unlimited and sometimes a bit frightening…”

“Oh yes,” said Brienne tartly. “Unlimited. I spend every day of my life fighting off hordes of men who want to date me.”

A brainwave hit her. _Zombie Horror Hordes,_ she wrote, knowing that was the film Ned and Cat had seen on their first date – the one that Cat should have seen with Brandon.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes. “Actually, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend, Sansa…”

Brienne scribbled_ Sansa_ under_ Zombie Horror Hordes_. The story of how Ned had carried Cat all the way to the hospital when she went into labour with Sansa when a burst pipe prevented them from driving their car was super romantic. Lost in fondness for the Starks, it took a moment for Brienne to realise what Daenerys had said.

“Pardon?”

“I overheard your conversation at the station; the one where you compared yourself to the Phantom of the Opera.” Brienne felt herself redden. She did not really want to talk about her insecurities with a total stranger who had more than a passing resemblance to _Malibu Barbie._

“I was just saying I’m a musical genius, unappreciated in her own time… like Erik.”

“Erik?” asked Daenerys, confusion on her pretty face.

“The Phantom’s real name,” responded Brienne huffily. “Did you really think _The Phantom of the Opera_ was written on his birth certificate?”

Daenerys shook her head, as if to brush off Brienne’s silly statement. “You weren’t saying you were a musical genius. You were saying you were ugly.”

It was like she had thrown a glass of freezing water in Brienne’s face. Why did this woman feel she had the right to speak so directly to her? About her most sensitive of beliefs? “No I wasn’t…” Brienne stammered.

“Yes, you were,” countered Daenerys. “Which is a ridiculous thing to say. It’s only a scar on your cheek.”

_Only a scar_… Brienne still remembered the stinking smell of him, booze and bad breath and dirt. His hands had been tearing, grasping, pulling, wanting to take what she wasn’t willing to give. The part of her that was a warrior had furiously fought back; she wouldn’t let him steal what no one had wanted to take with love, affection, and kindness. That had only made him angry. His teeth were so very sharp.

“I… I… I…” said Brienne, suddenly wrongfooted, half way between the train carriage and the dingy alley behind the University night club.

Daenerys Targaryen smiled at her, not realising she had unearthed some repressed trauma. “It’s all about self-confidence. If you believe you have your own special sauce, so will the rest of the world. Then you can allow the current of destiny to take you to where you need to be… to your soulmate.”

Brienne snorted. “The current of destiny? What are you on?” Daenerys looked a little indignant at that, but Brienne continued on regardless. “Shit just happens; there is no destiny or fate or soulmates or whatever. Bad stuff happens, you get hurt, and you just carry it round forever until you end up silently dribbling in some nursing home. Then you die and your body becomes the grass, and the antelope eat the grass. And so we are all connected in the great Circle of Life.” It took her a moment to realise she was channelling Mufasa and, once she had, she swiftly stopped talking. He was not the best choice of philosopher. To Brienne’s immense surprise, Daenerys Targaryen did not laugh at that, but fixed Brienne with those violet eyes of her. Not liking the look, Brienne wanted to say something, but felt compelled to be silent in Daenerys’ presence.

_The blonde midget was probably a cult leader in a past life. _

“You are wrong,” said Daenerys gently, “and the author of this book, the elusive Melisandre, thinks so too. She even has a chapter on just this issue – see?” At that, Daenerys opened _Six Billion People and You_ by Melisandre Asshai to the contents page, and Brienne was surprised to see a chapter titled simply _Fuck the Past_.

_Fuck the Past,_ as if it were so simple. Hyle fucking Chastity “she’s just a friend” the Stripper in her bed. The man in the alley, his teeth bared. Years of being as invisible to men as a fake ghost invented by the owners of an old stately home to attract tourists.

_Oh yeah,_ she thought bitterly. _Fuck the Past. So simple._

Brienne shook her head, turning the page to the picture of the author. As she anticipated, she was greeted by a red-headed beauty with pale white skin and haunting eyes. “Easy for her to say… look at her.”

“What about her?” asked Daenerys, seemingly genuinely confused. Brienne was getting seriously tired of this conversation. Who did this Daenerys woman think she was picking over all Brienne’s deepest issues on a train to bloody London Waterloo?

“She’s just like _you_,” said Brienne a little resentfully. “Beautiful. Young. Attractive. And I bet that bloke you’re going to meet under the clock will fall for you in an instant and sweep you off your feet, because that is what happens to people who have the sheer dumb luck of being born beautiful.” Brienne could feel herself getting more and more riled with every word, but she did not care. “So, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue being ugly and single in this corner for the rest of my journey. I’d also like to get some sleep.”

It wasn’t true at all, but Brienne thought it was the only way to get Daenerys "Busybody" Targaryen to shut up. To her immense relief, it seemed to work, as although Daenerys furrowed her brow for a few moments, she eventually said, “alright. I’m sorry I wanted to talk to someone on the train. I’ll keep out of your way.”

“Thank you,” said Brienne, her temper somewhat softened. Picking up her notebook, she closed it and put it against the window, using it as a pillow. Daenerys picked up _Six_ _Billion People and You_ and began to purposefully read it, clearly turning to the chapter entitled _Fuck the Past_. Not wanting to watch Daenerys trying to give her any more hints, Brienne closed her eyes. Surprisingly, she was asleep in moments, and a dream soon followed.

In her dream, Brienne was working as a mechanic in the East End sometime in May 1982. Brandon Stark came in wanting to get his car fixed and Brienne managed to do it with a wad of chewing gum and a blow torch. It made sense in dream logic. Once the car was fixed, Brandon had taken out a huge brick of a mobile phone and called his brother.

“Hey Ned, no need to pick my date up for me. Fate and destiny have interceded. I’ve got my car fixed.”

Then, quite suddenly, Brienne was sitting behind Cat and Brandon in the cinema and the picture was horribly distorted. Everything was wrong; because Brandon had used the entire runtime of _Zombie Horror Hordes_ to obviously attempt to feel up Cat rather than watch the film and have a serious discussion about it afterwards, she had not accepted his request for another date.

“We are now approaching London Waterloo. Please mind the gap when getting off the train at the next station.”

Brienne opened her eyes. Her legs were stiff from having been wedged in an uncomfortable seat for so long, but she had a little more room than anticipated because Daenerys had vacated 14A. Looking up, Brienne saw that the evil blonde love guru was now standing over at the end of the carriage, waiting to get out. Bending down to get her satchel, which had slipped off her lap while she was asleep, Brienne noticed that Daenerys had left her copy of _Six Billion People and You_ open, face down, on seat 14A. Brienne picked it up confusedly, but when she looked back towards Daenerys, she realised that she was in the process of getting off the train.

“Hey! Wait! You forgot your book!”

Lifting her satchel over her shoulder and stuffing her notebook inside, Brienne tried to catch Daenerys’ attention, but she had already gone. Book in hand, once she reached the train doors, Brienne spotted Daenerys by a _Costa Coffee_ and tried to call out to her once more, but she did not hear her.

_For god’s sake, I’ve got an anniversary party to get to!_

While attempting to mind the gap, Brienne accidentally looked down at the copy of _Six Billion People and You_ and she saw that there was a little sticky note with a smiley face on one of the pages. Taking a closer look, she realised that under the face Daenerys had written one word: _Brienne_.

Momentarily interested, Brienne turned to the page Daenerys had highlighted. In big, bold letters at the top was the chapter title: _Your Negative Thoughts Are Ruining Your Life._ The rush of rage that passed through Brienne made her lift her eyes, determined to find Daenerys so she could chuck her book at her. However, she was no longer outside Costa Coffee; in fact, Brienne could not see her at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for sticking with me through this story! I love comments and kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne tries to give Daenerys' book back to her...


	3. Waterloo Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tries to find Daenerys at Waterloo Station to give her the copy of her book back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for this chapter! I am having real fun writing this story, so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and kudos make my skin softer and help me live longer, so please feel free to leave them!

Brienne kept looking around Waterloo Station, but she could not see Daenerys anywhere; not at the coffee shop, the book stand, over by the ticket machine, not going into the toilets. Ripping the little post-it-note out of _Six Billion People and You_, Brienne tucked the book under her arm and decided to go up the stairs to the restaurant.

_I’ll have a better vantage there,_ she thought.

Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Sansa.

_Sansa:_ How long do you think you are going to be? Arya still hasn’t turned up, so I need some help blowing up some balloons.

Brienne looked at her watch. It was 6.15pm. As it was a surprise party, the plan was for the guests to arrive at 8pm, before Robb brought Ned and Cat home at 8.30pm and the drinking began.

_I’ve got time,_ thought Brienne._ I can even finish my speech on the tube._

_Brienne:_ If everything runs to schedule, I should be with you in half an hour. However, I’m currently a little delayed. I’ll try and be with you ASAP though. I will do everything in my power to make sure your parents party is awesome :D

_Sansa:_ Thanks! If you have time, could you text Arya? She’s just not responding to me.

Brienne went to do just that, but then she saw a flash of white blonde hair out of the corner of her eye and snapped her head up. Unfortunately, it was just a member of the blue rinse brigade shuffling along on her Zimmer frame. Momentarily disappointed, Brienne tried to think where the most likely place for a blonde midget to hang out at a station would be. Just then, a snippet of the conversation they had had on the train came back to her, accompanied by Daenerys Targaryen’s sparkling violet eyes.

_The big clock at London Waterloo. I’m meeting a blind date there. _

Turning away from the stairs up to the restaurant, Brienne made her way to the big clock and stood under it. Technically, she did not know what time Daenerys’ date was meant to start, but she surmised the woman would have wanted to be here a bit early, so thought she might be able to catch her before she accidentally crashed her date. All her plans disintegrated to dust twenty five seconds later, however, when she heard a voice that was so deep and chocolatey that it gave her immediate goosebumps.

“Hey, you must be Daenerys, my blind date.”

Brienne turned around to look at him and suddenly became convinced Sir Simon Rattle and the entirety of the London Symphony Orchestra were hidden out on one of the platforms playing the _Love Theme_ from Tchaikovsky’s _Romeo and Juliet_.

“Blub…” muttered Brienne.

The man standing in front of Brienne was the most motherfucking super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot guy she had ever seen in her entire life. He looked the mutant offspring of a three-way between Henry Cavill’s _Superman_, Aphrodite the Ancient Greek Goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, passion, and procreation, and Prince Charming from Shrek. He was tall, only an inch or two shorter than herself, with piercing green eyes and a jaw that was sharp enough that it probably counted as a weapon if you took it through customs.

_Holy nibblets,_ thought Brienne.

He had gold hair that looked as if Rumpelstiltskin himself had spun it, his teeth were perfect and straight and almost pearl-like, and he even had fucking cute little dimples when he smiled. Daenerys’ blind date also clearly cared about his style; he was wearing an unbuttoned tailored black raincoat, which obscured a perfectly cut pair of dark jeans and a burgundy shirt that revealed a hint of golden chest hair. Even his shoes were polished within an inch of their life. It took all her willpower not to rugby tackle him to the ground and rip off his clothes in the middle of Waterloo Station.

_That would be sexual assault, Brienne,_ she reminded herself.

“_Mmdkjhah_,” said Brienne, losing control of her words for a moment.

“Pardon?” he said.

“Must I?” said Brienne, turning _mmdkjhah_ into an actual phrase.

“Yes,” said Sir Sex-on-Legs, lifting up his own copy of _Six Billion People and You_. “Tyrion told me this was how I was meant to recognise you.”

Brienne suddenly realised she still had Daenerys’ copy of _Six Billion People and You_ and was standing under the clock at Waterloo Station, in the exact spot right at the second that Daenerys Targaryen should be occupying the position. Perhaps Tyrion had not explained to this man that he should be expecting a blonde pixie goddess as his blind date rather than the giant daughter of Mr Potato Head. Maybe such an omission would be to Brienne’s favour.

At that moment, Brienne began drowning in his eyes – his luscious green, _I want to roll around with you naked in the grass_, green eyes – and she knew she had a decision to make. Brienne was a terrible liar, beyond awful, but she also knew that if she wanted to continue to talk to the man who owned that pair of green eyes (and dat ass), she would have to become Daenerys Targaryen.

She made her mind up in less than a second.

“Yes,” said Brienne slowly. “Yep. Si. Oui. Ja. Yaaaas. My name is Daenerys Targaryen. What’s yours?”

The man looked a little confused, “didn’t Tyrion tell you when he set up the date?”

“Tyrion?”

“Yeah, Tyrion? You know? Your colleague?”

Brienne had never met a Tyrion, and so consequently tried to imagine what a man called Tyrion might look like. Brienne thought he sounded like a rapper. Trying to cover over the awkwardness, she said, “of course. _Tyrion._ The tall guy.”

The man let out a little, masculine laugh. “You’re funny.”

“Thanks.”

_If this counts as comedy,_ thought Brienne, _I’m going to wrap him round my little finger when I actually try to make a joke._

“You know what Tyrion’s like,” she said, not knowing what Tyrion was like at all. “He forgot to mention your name.”

He tutted, and the sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth almost made Brienne shiver. “God, you think he’d be a better wingman than that to his own brother, especially when he was setting me up with such a striking woman.”

Brienne outright laughed at that. “Oh, Tyrion didn’t tell me you were blind.”

He looked a little bewildered for a moment, before saying, “Well, I am on a _blind_ date.” He smirked at her in a way that showed he was trying to make her laugh, but it also made her want to rip his clothes off with her teeth. Even so, that he was trying to draw her into a bit of banter made her relax ever so slightly.

“Oh god,” she laughed, “was that an attempt at a pun? If so, that’s the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Surely not. I’m a big fan of whiteboards, you know?”

“What?” she responded, a little confused.

“Yeah. I find them quite _remarkable_.” He grinned at her in a way that was boyish but also incredibly charming. It made Brienne snort.

“Okay, I change my mind. _That_ was the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you,” said the man, giving a mock bow. “I only make crappy puns on purpose.”

“So, shall I call you Mr Crappy Puns for the rest of our date?”

_Our date._ Brienne was surprised how easily the words tripped off her tongue. Only a couple of hours ago she had been licked on the nose by a total creep and had sworn off men for life. It was amazing what a pair of nice green eyes, an easy manner, and shoulders that looked like they would make really comfy pillows could do.

“I’d recommend you call me by my name,” he said, giving her a glittering smile. “Jaime, Jaime Lannister. At your service.”

Her pornographic daydream about Jaime Lannister being _at her service_ was totally interrupted when he stepped forward, put one hand on her waist, and pecked her on the cheek. She was momentarily overwhelmed by the smell of expensive aftershave, soap, and pure unbridled masculinity, before feeling the light bristle of his designer stubble against her skin. She couldn’t help but think how amazing it would feel on the inside of her thighs.

_Fuck,_ thought Brienne, _stop being such a perv._

“Shall we go get a drink, then, Daenerys?” asked Jaime, extending his arm to her.

Brienne faltered for a moment after hearing that name – Daenerys. She thought back to that blonde haired vision on the train with her violently purple eyes who was as opposite from Brienne Tarth in every way it was possible to be. What had Daenerys said on the train? Something about paddling along in the stream of destiny to find your soulmate?

_Well,_ thought Brienne, _maybe I should have some swimming lessons_.

She took Jaime’s arm in a moment. “We shall,” she smiled.

“Great,” he said cheerfully, “there’s a lovely little bar on the South Bank I know. It’s called _The Red Keep_. We should go there.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to resist the urge to go grab a fire extinguisher to put out the flames that his arm on hers had ignited.

“Cool,” he beamed. “It’s this way.” With that, Brienne just let him lead her out of the station. She thought of her earlier conversation about swearing off all men forever and how quickly she had broken that resolution, while another part of her brain suggested that maybe she was still asleep on the train and this was all just some wacky dream.

_Either way,_ she mused, _one more date can’t hurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jaime has arrived! What do you think? I imagine the chapters will get a teeny bit longer from now on as we get into the main thrust of the story.
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and "Daenerys" go to a bar...


	4. The Red Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and "Daenerys" go to a bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks for coming back to Chapter 4! This one took a little longer than intended, but I hope you enjoy. Comments and kudos send me to a happy place as always.

Brienne couldn’t help but stare at Jaime Lannister’s handsome, kissable face while he explained the joys of _The Red Keep _bar on the South Bank.

_I, Brienne Tarth, am on a date with _him.

Brienne Tarth didn’t go on dates with people who looked like Jaime Lannister. Brienne Tarth’s went on dates with guys who looked like old men’s toenails with the personalities of Hannibal Lecter or Freddie Kreuger. They did not smell as if they had been fragranced by the gods, nor did they ever politely but gently hold her arm while they took her to a bar they were really effusive about.

_Am I dead? _thought Brienne suddenly. _Was I hit by a train and this is my reward for years of suffering on earth?_

“From everything Tyrion has told me about you, it seems you’ll quite like the vibe in this bar,” said Jaime. “It’s very chilled.”

Sensing an opportunity to avoid looking like a total numpty for the rest of the evening, Brienne replied, “oh, what did Tyrion tell you about me?”

Jaime let out a little laugh at her tone and her stomach started doing _Riverdance. _“He told me that, even though he was setting us up solely to test whether his client’s book was worth its salt, he thought we would be a good match.”

Brienne thought of the real Daenerys and concluded that, at least on an aesthetic basis, Jaime and Daenerys were almost star-crossed. They were both gorgeous. “And why did he think that?”

“Well for one, I’m a gym bunny and love keeping fit, and you are a triathlete. It’s almost perfect.” Jaime’s hold on her arm tightened momentarily and he looked deeply into Brienne’s eyes. Her insides turned into yoghurt. “By the way, I must say I think that’s really impressive; when I was twenty-four, I was much more interested in drinking and clubbing than my fitness.”

Brienne could barely believe that. Jaime looked so perfect it was almost as if he had been sculpted by Leonardo da Vinci himself, so she said, “really? It seems to me you look after yourself.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he said, giving her a knowing smile that made Brienne’s cheeks redden, “but it’s been a long process. I still sometimes get possessed by the lazy bastard that I was when I was twenty-four. To be honest, I think that was why Tyrion thought we’d make a good match; he said you could whip me into shape.”

Brienne tried not to blush, but it was difficult when she was being attacked by so many contradictory feelings. The first reason for her red cheeks was obviously that after imagining trying to _whip him into shape, _she was violently resisting the urge to fuck him on the pavement. The second was that Jaime’s expression clearly indicated that he had noticed her internal conflict and took great pleasure in needling at it. If she had been any other woman, she would have thought he was flirting, but she just reasoned that, given Tyrion’s description, he was attempting to get to know the woman he had been told about.

And then the thought of the _real _Daenerys made Brienne’s stomach fall. A twenty-four year old triathlete? How could Brienne effectively pretend to be that? A moderately unfit thirty-two year old who did a weekly kick-box class was more her jam. Suddenly feeling a little resentful that she wasn’t really the type of woman who would have been set up on a date with Jaime, she said tartly, “Oh yes, because an interest in exercise is what makes a good foundation for a relationship.”

“Cynical much,” he smiled, “if it worked out, we could at least go to the gym together.”

The image of a topless, sweaty, bench pressing Jaime suddenly came to mind and she felt all her momentary frustration disappear. As she looked at him, Brienne found herself saying, “you are right. It’s a great basis for a relationship.”

“Couples who exercise together stay together,” said Jaime sagely, before his mouth quirked into a jokey smile. “I think it probably helps that it also offers the opportunity for both parties to watch the other getting sweaty in tight exercise shorts too.”

Brienne momentarily lost her mind and thought about a scenario where she and her boyfriend Jaime went to the gym to work out. While Jaime looked like some sort of aerobic sex god, Brienne looked like an ugly clown. It made her snort, “in some cases, for comedy purposes.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her, as if he did not quite understand what she was saying. It was a little unsettling as there was also a strange look in his eye that Brienne could not quite place. After a slightly awkward pause, Jaime recovered things by asking, “so, what did Tyrion tell you about me?”

She felt like she was doing Tyrion a disservice; from the little she knew, Brienne thought that he had probably briefed the real Daenerys Targaryen on his blond demigod of a brother rather extensively. Even so, Brienne said, “he didn’t even tell me your name, I know next to nothing about you. So, you’ll have to fill me in on everything about Jaime Lannister.”

Brienne then momentarily lost the first few words of what Jaime was saying because her brain suddenly bombarded her with really pornographic images of Jaime _filling her in, _but she eventually managed to control herself.

“… I work in the City doing some really boring job – money, conference calls, PowerPoints, all that jazz – but it’s not really me. I used to be in the army but after…” his voice faltered, “after I came back off tour, I got a job at my father’s company. It really has been all that has held me together during the big D.”

Brienne tried not to imagine Jaime’s dick when she asked, “the big D?”

“The divorce,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“_Oh_.” Even though divorce was a very serious issue, Brienne was still thinking about Jaime’s dick. “Work got you through that?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, before a mischievous expression crossed his face. “When you are thirty-seven, childless, and going through a divorce, work and shagging around is _all _that gets you through.” Brienne suddenly felt herself stiffen. She had never had a one night stand; lack of opportunity had meant it was unfamiliar and therefore she was rather fearful of the prospect. Trusting people was not her forte. In contrast, Jaime must have had many opportunities to stick his dick in willing women, looking the way he did. As he was still holding onto her arm, he seemed to sense her tension. “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “You are my first proper date since well… I don’t know. I’m not here for a one night stand.”

Brienne grinned at him, trying to patch over the beat of awkwardness by being jocular and confident. “Who knows? Maybe I am?” That made him laugh and Brienne felt a sudden warmth course through her.

_I can make him laugh, _she thought. _Maybe… just maybe…_

Just at that moment they arrived in front of the big neon sign that said _The Red Keep. _When they went through the front door, Jaime dropped her arm and Brienne suddenly felt very cold. Falling into place behind him, she followed him to the bar.

“Hey Bronn,” called Jaime to the barman, “can we get some drinks?” It was very clear the two knew each other well as Bronn had ignored other customers to come and talk to Jaime.

“Yeah sure,” said the barman, taking a quick look at Brienne, “but you know that Cersei…”

“I don’t want to hear about Cersei,” said Jaime forcefully, perching on one of the stools next to the bar, “I just want to get some drinks.” He turned to Brienne, “what would you like, Daenerys?”

“Gin and Tonic, double, please,” said Brienne, settling herself into onto one of the bar stools next to Jaime. While he was ordering, she made sure to arrange herself so her satchel was half open on her lap and that she was leaning on the bar in such a way that she could rest her cheek on her hand, covering up her unsightly scar.

“I’ll have the same,” Jaime told Bronn, before swivelling away from the barman so he could face Brienne. As he did so he began to shuck off his raincoat and Brienne noticed something for the first time. In place of his right hand, there was a very realistic looking prosthetic. Knowing that she would not like it if he stared at her scar, she pretended to find the floor very interesting. She only turned back when he said, “well, cheers, Daenerys.”

He had raised his gin and tonic in his left hand, smiling. “Cheers,” she replied, lifting her drink and clinking it against his. Lowering it to her mouth, she took a gulp, all the while gazing at Jaime. As he drank, he was doing the same, looking straight into her blue eyes with his green. From her end, the connection seemed to burn, but Brienne could not help but think how non-descript and boring her own eyes were in comparison to his, or even the amethyst jewels of the real Daenerys Targaryen.

_He must be disappointed, _she thought, _that Tyrion thought he and I were a match._

Even so, the way he was looking her made her fall into character one more and she felt an ugly blush colour her cheeks. Jaime just smiled. When they had both put their drinks down on the bar, he said, “shall we do the lists?”

“The lists?” asked Brienne, a little confused.

“The one bit of _Six Billion People and You _I actually read said we had to make a list of ten utterly truthful things about ourselves that will help us break the ice with our date.” With that, he pulled out a very familiar leather notebook from his bag, identical to the one she herself had, before depositing the bag on the floor. “I mean, I only came up with five, but it’s the thought that counts.”

Her heart began hammering in her chest. How did she get out of this one without looking like an utter twat? “Oh… I… err… forgot,” she said, a little desperately.

“Well, what’s that then?” Jaime asked, pointing at her bag. Brienne looked down and saw her traitorous, duplicitous notebook sticking out of the top of her satchel. Before she could stop him, Jaime had stretched out and grabbed it, a mischievous smile on his face. Brienne was not able to stop him and soon he had opened the notebook and turned it to the only page that had anything written on it.

“Is this your list?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

As she had nothing else to offer him, she said, “yes”.

He looked at it a couple more times, his beautiful green eyes narrowed, before saying, “I’m dyslexic, so that may explain why this makes absolutely no sense, but I’m pretty sure this just says _Thirty Five Years of Luck, Zombie Horror Hordes, _and _Sansa_.”

Brienne steeled herself. “Yes. That’s exactly what it says.”

Jaime blinked. “But what does it mean?”

Trying to keep control of her breathing, Brienne scrambled around for a way for the bullet points that detailed Ned and Cat’s love life could be used to explain the inner workings of Daenerys Targaryen’s heart.

“Well,” said Brienne tentatively, beginning with the easiest one. “Sansa is my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were tiny. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. And, in the immortal words of the _Spice Girls, _if you wanna be my lover, you’ve gotta get with my friends, so I thought you ought to know.”

Jaime smiled before taking another sip of his drink. “Fair enough. _Zigazig ah _and all that.”

“Indeed,” she chuckled, noticing the reflected amusement in his green eyes.

“What about _Zombie Horror Hordes?_”

Everything Brienne knew about _Zombie Horror Hordes _came from through the lens of Ned and Cat’s meet-cute story. She tried to piece the plot together.

“It’s my favourite film. It’s about two best friends who try to survive the zombie apocalypse by hiding out in their local pub. Somebody gets their guts eaten at one point.” Brienne only knew that finer detail because Ned always liked to say that it was at that moment that Cat threw herself into his arms.

Jaime looked marginally horrified. “And that’s your favourite film?”

Brienne laughed, “aren’t you glad to know you are on a date with an utter psychopath?”

“Overjoyed,” grinned Jaime. “It’s nice to go out with someone with a bit of character for once. Cersei was…” He shook his head, his smile dimming for a moment. “It’s too early in the evening for Cersei.”

Brienne felt acutely aware that they had suddenly entered a territory that was very _real, _so she said, “don’t worry, save her for later.”

He gave her an almost grateful little smile at that, before turning to her last point. “_Thirty Five Years of Luck?_”

By this point, Brienne had just had long enough to put together a plausible story. “It’s my favourite song.”

Jaime looked suitably stumped, so he asked, “who is it by?”

“_Ned and the Starks_.” The image of Ned Stark as the front man of a band genuinely amused Brienne, but she tried to keep her face serious as she told him.

“How does it go?” Jaime asked.

“I’m not singing it,” scoffed Brienne.

“Okay,” shrugged Jaime, reaching for his phone. “I’ll ask Siri.”

Knowing Siri would ruin her cover in two seconds flat, Brienne shouted, “NO! I’ll sing it!”

Looking a little startled, Jaime put his phone back in his bag and said, “alright. I’ll see if I recognise it.”

Brienne cleared her throat, trying to shake away her nerves. “It starts with this kind of drum beat, and there is a bit that goes bum-ba-ba-da-ba-ba… bum-ba-da-baba… da da.” She started drumming on the edge of the bar with one hand as Jaime looked at her as if she were certifiably insane. As she had already begun, she thought it was probably best to just throw herself into it and hope he came along for the ride. “There’s then a little bit of high hat on the cymbal and then Ned of _Ned and the Starks _starts singing.”

“And what does Ned of _Ned and the Starks _sing?”

Brienne just blinked, panic rising in her chest. Trapped in a story of her own making, she began to compose this totally fictious song trying not to die of embarrassment as Jaime continued to look at her curiously with his soul-piercing eyes. Clearing her throat, she began:

_“Thirty five years of luck,_

_Since Cupid’s arrow first struck,_

_From the moment I first met you,_

_I was always trying to get you,_

_Into my bed so we could…”_

She stopped singing and said, “the next word rhymes with luck, but they tend to bleep it out in all radio plays of it, _Hollaback Girl _style.”

There was a pause that seemed to last twenty five years in which Brienne wished that she would spontaneously combust so she would not have to continue to look at Jaime’s slightly confused but incredibly sexy face. Eventually, he burst out laughing, finally giving her a moment’s relief.

“Was the lyricist high? Drunk? An utter mental case?”

Brienne felt a little indignant at that. _No, she had just backed herself into a corner while attempting to chat up the sexiest man she’s ever seen. _Even so, she felt herself being pulled into his laughter.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she smiled. “She’s a lyrical genius.”

Jaime gave her a sarcastic little nod. “Oh yes. I particularly liked the _luck _and _fuck _rhyme. That would take a real poetic virtuoso to work that one out.” His dimples were especially prominent in the smile that followed his laughter, and, in spite of her most honed instincts, she found herself leaning towards him.

“Alright then. What’s _your _favourite song? Did you put it on your list?”

“No,” he grinned. “I put down things that would really give you an insight into my soul.”

“Like?”

Jaime turned his own list towards her, and she looked at the first point.

_1\. I dislike Chinese food_

“Oh yes,” said Brienne sarcastically. “I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime.”

There were those dimples again. “I thought it was very important to get that one out there. I’ve met more than one girl for whom that was an utter deal-breaker.”

“Really?” scoffed Brienne, “even when you look like…” She gestured at him, immediately regretting her action.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, “when I look like what?”

Brienne felt so hot she thought she might burst into flames. “You _know._”

“Do I?” he smiled, his grin all predator. “Maybe I want you to tell me.”

Even though she felt like she was being burnt at the stake like a medieval witch, she found the courage to say. “Maybe I’ll tell you later after I’ve had a few more drinks.”

He just smirked at that, while she looked down at his second point.

_2\. I’m going through a divorce. It becomes official on Tuesday._

When he saw she had gone back to reading, he said, “It’s something I don’t think it’s good to hide. You should probably know that my last relationship disintegrated in a ball of fire and ash.”

“So did mine,” she said, thinking of the way she had chucked her hairdryer at Hyle’s stupid head. “I think that’s the way a lot of them end.”

Clearly ruminating on whatever had happened with his ex-wife, Jaime broke her gaze to look down at his lap and Brienne tried to bring him back into their conversation by saying. “Is it Cersei? Shall we leave it till later?”

“Yes please.”

“Fine,” she said with a smile. “Let’s get to point three.”

_3\. _ _I’m technically a social media influencer, but that doesn’t mean I’m a self-obsessed bastard._

“Oh no,” groaned Brienne. “Are you trying to get on _Love Island?_”

Jaime laughed. “No. It’s just a couple of years ago, I thought about getting out of the rat race and doing what I really want to do.”

“Which is?”

“When I was in the army, I got a few personal training qualifications. Before everything went down with my wife, I was seriously thinking about getting it all together as a business, so I set up an _Instagram _account in order to advertise it. According to Tyrion, that’s how you do everything now.”

Brienne nodded. “It is.”

Jaime took another sip of his drink, “but then the divorce happened, and I lost sight of it for a while. I kept the _Instagram _account though and just used it to post pictures of me, hoping I might get a few followers so when I did decide to start the business, I had a platform to work from.”

Brienne could see where this was going. “And then because of your pretty face you suddenly had two million thirsty women salivating over you and you found yourselves advertising stupid sunglasses?”

Jaime’s eyes flashed. “I thought you were going to have a few more drinks before you told me what you thought I looked like?”

Brienne tried to prevent her blush rising again by saying, “it’s a total impartial view. People who are as facially symmetrical as you are going to make a killing on _Instagram.”_

He just smirked, “not sure it’s quite a _killing_, but it makes me a bit of cash. It’s easy money at the end of the day. You should try it.”

Brienne bit down her objections about someone who was physically closer to Jabba the Hutt than Cindy Crawford being able to make a killing on _Instagram, _instead choosing to say, “I don’t have any social media.”

Jaime’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Really? But isn’t it punishable by imprisonment if you don’t this day and age?”

“No,” smirked Brienne. “It’s just I don’t want Mark Zuckerberg knowing I’m Sansa’s unofficial marriage councillor, or that I once had athlete’s foot and tried to Google it. And after _Cambridge Analytica _and all that, I’m convinced the Russian Government is spying on me.”

Jaime chuckled. “Because of course. Of all the people on the planet, Daenerys Targaryen has some secrets that the Russians want. Do you happen to have the nuclear launch codes tucked away behind those astonishing blue eyes of yours?”

He was fixing her with a look that burnt, so she dropped her eyes to the notebook and was then distracted by his fourth point. “Well, I’d be worried about your _Instagram _if I were you, because Jaime Lannister clearly has secrets too.”

“What?” he said, confused, before Brienne pointed out his next ice breaker.

_4\. _ _I have some secrets that I won’t tell you until I trust you._

There was something genuinely vulnerable in that statement and, determined not to bruise him, Brienne tried to make light of it. “Are you trying to tell me you’re Batman?” she asked.

Jaime laughed, before shaking his head. “You can’t just ask me if I’m Batman, because if I _was _Batman and I told you, suddenly you would have the Penguin, the Riddler, and Catwoman all coming after you threatening to hang you from a crane or something in an attempt to get me to expose my identity and come save you.”

“That would only ever happen if I was the love interest,” grinned Brienne. “The Penguin wouldn’t give a shit about some random woman in a _Clash _t-shirt.”

His expression softened slightly. “Who says you’re not?”

“Not what?”

“The love interest?”

Brienne could feel herself going very, very red. She wasn’t a total moron, so she could tell _that _was an attempt at flirting, it’s just she did not know how to deal with attempts at flirting, especially from a men who looked like Jaime Lannister. Trying to diffuse the awkwardness that sat at the very centre of her soul, she looked back down at the last point on his list.

_5\. I’ve had my hair insured_

“Well of course you have,” she smiled.

Still caught up on point four, he said, “of course I’ve what?”

“Had your hair insured. It’s very lovely hair.”

He outright laughed at that. “Thanks. It’s worth five thousand pounds and is the source of all the money I make on _Insta_.”

Brienne wanted to tell him that it was more to do with the fact he was a physically perfect specimen of a man she had ever seen, but instead she went for “five thousand pounds?” She wasn’t even sure everything she owned was worth that much.

“Yes,” beamed Jaime, still chuckling. “To be honest, I’m surprised. Normally by this point in a date the woman I’m going out with has asked to touch it.”

“What?” said Brienne, amazed. “Some women are actually that forward that they ask to touch your hair?”

_I mean, I’ve imagined doing it, I just wouldn’t have the balls to ask._

He looked at her like she was some sort of alien. “Yes, some women are that forward, but might be because not all of them were technically _dates_. You are positively shy by comparison.”

Brienne _was _shy, but she did not want to tell Jaime that. She wanted him to think she was fearless. “I’m not _shy,_” she insisted. “I’m just not a total perv.”

_I really am a total perv, _thought Brienne. _If he could hear my internal monologue, I’d be in prison for some sort of sex crime._

“I think you are at least a _little _shy,” said Jaime, taking a sip of his drink. Brienne could tell they had now reached the portion of the date where they started talking about things other than the totally superficial.

“Why do you say that?”

He looked at her quite seriously. “Well, ever since we’ve arrived you’ve been sat in such a way that has meant you have been covering your scar with your hand the whole time. If you were über confident, you would have just rocked on up and gone _hey, I’m Daenerys and I have a scar on my face._”

Brienne found she couldn’t breathe for a moment. That someone would just so flippantly raised the ugliest part of herself this early on in their date took her breath out of her lungs. She tried to say something, but just opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Brienne thought she must look like a confused fish.

Jaime suddenly realised he may have offended her, because he said, “I’m sorry… it’s just I… I kinda understand.” He raised his prosthetic, “for a year after this happened, I wore gloves every single day. And then, in one of her more spiteful moods, my ex-wife just told me it made me look like a creepy kiddie-fiddler.”

That finally put words back in Brienne’s mouth. “Was your ex a total bitch?”

Jaime relaxed, happy that the moment of awkwardness had passed. “That’s _one _way to describe her I suppose. But, although what she said was harsh and unforgiving, it made me think. I was so busy hiding away and apologising, I wasn’t living.”

“But it’s your _hand_,” insisted Brienne. “Surely you had to relearn lots! It wasn’t something totally superficial.”

“Of course,” conceded Jaime. “A five year old could write more clearly than me. It was difficult to get dressed in the morning. I massacred my food every time I tried to eat.” Brienne could sense some genuine sadness at that, so she understood when he raised a cheeky smile at her and tried to flip the mood. “And do you know how hard it is to have a wank with your non-dominant hand? Bloody impossible! I had a permanent hard-on for a month because I couldn’t get myself off properly.”

That made Brienne snort. “What a tragedy!”

“It was,” he said with fake solemnity, “especially since at the time Cersei was acting as if I had come home from Afghanistan looking like Quasimodo and she wouldn’t come near me with a six foot barge pole. My left hand was all I had.”

Even though his story made her laugh, and his expression suggested she should take it that way, it was at the same time quite tragic. Brienne felt her smile diminish as she said, “it must have really impacted your life.”

“It did,” he said, his voice soft. “And I know losing a hand is different to getting a scar on your cheek…”

“Worse,” insisted Brienne. “Yours made your life difficult, whereas mine just impacted my vanity.”

Jaime suddenly looked a little defensive. “I’m not saying that. All I am trying to say is, while I’m sure however you got that scar was horrible and traumatic, it is only as big as you make it.” As she was too busy appraising him, she couldn’t stop him when he leant across the small space between them to take her hand off her cheek. When their hands touched, Brienne felt a great swooping in her stomach. “Don’t sweat it,” he said casually, “other people don’t see it as much as you do.”

She thought back to the litany of terrible dates she had been on over the years, full of men who would only talk about themselves and get angry if she did not want to sleep with them, which they thought only basic courtesy when she was so ugly.

_Why is he being so kind? Surely he can’t be trying to get into my pants?_

Suddenly overcome by a great deal of warmth towards him, she knew she wanted to do something more interesting than sit at a bar drinking, something that would genuinely lift his spirits. “Is there anything you haven’t done since you lost your hand?” asked Brienne, “I mean, other than have a really satisfying wank?”

He chuckled, thinking for a moment. “I used to love bowling, but it’s freaking impossible now.”

Brienne’s mouth opened in pleasure. “I _love _bowling. I used to play for my county when I was at school.”

“Really?” he asked, clearly impressed.

“Yes!” she beamed. “I know all the tips and tricks. I could have you bowling with your left hand in no time.”

Even though she was grinning at him, his face fell slightly. “Oh, I’m not sure…”

Trying to be encouraging, she gave him a playful whack on his shoulder. “What were you saying to me a moment ago? Let’s not hide away and apologise. Let’s go and live.”

He considered it for a moment before nodding and then downing his drink. “Okay. It sounds fun and, if I remember correctly, there’s a bowling alley not too far away from here.”

“Great,” smiled Brienne, copying him in finishing her drink.

Jaime then grabbed one of the notebooks and stuffed it in his bag, before putting it over his shoulder. “I just need to pop to the gents. Two minutes?”

“Two minutes,” she smiled, getting to her feet. As he disappeared off to the toilets, she put the other notebook back in her own satchel before checking her phone. She had several messages from Sansa.

_Sansa: _Have you heard from Arya at all?

_Sansa: _Where are you? Is your train delayed?

_Sansa:_ Brienne?

Brienne looked at the time. It was just approaching 7pm. Knowing she did not have to be at the Starks until eight and that it only took half an hour to get there, she worked out she could have a least one game with the delectable Jaime Lannister. To keep Sansa at bay, she composed a quick message.

_Brienne: _Sorry. I’m a bit delayed. Hopefully I’ll be there soon!

Just then, Jaime reappeared.

“Are you ready?” he asked, extending his arm to her once more. Brienne took it in a moment, enjoying his coiled strength and the steady heat of him.

“Ready,” she grinned, before letting him lead her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed that! Please tell me in a lovely comment whether you like my story - what do you think of Jaime?
> 
> Next time... Jaime and "Daenerys" go bowling...


	5. Bowling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and "Daenerys" go bowling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I was much quicker with this chapter! I hope you enjoy it! As ever, comments and kudos make me super happy, so if you are feeling so inclined, please leave them!

_A Walk on the Wild Side _was a gloriously kitschy rainforest themed bowling alley about a ten minute walk away from _The Red Keep. _“I’ve never actually been here before,” admitted Jaime, “but I do know they serve beer, so that’s a plus.”

“That’s not just a plus,” beamed Brienne, “that’s a deal breaker for me. If they didn’t sell beer, I’d have spent the next several hours dragging you round the whole of South London trying to find a bowling alley that _would _sell us beer.”

This time, Jaime did not let go of her arm when they went through the front door, but they stayed holding onto each other while they got into the queue to book an alley and pick up bowling shoes. “So,” asked Brienne, “were you a decent bowler before you lost your hand?”

“I didn’t represent my county or anything,” said Jaime, “but me and Tyrion used to go down to the lanes a lot when we were teenagers. It was a great place to pick up girls.”

Brienne snorted. “I wasn’t aware you grew up in _Grease 2._”

“Oh yes,” said Jaime earnestly. “Complete with musical numbers and everything.”

She let out a genuine laugh as Jaime began to sing the chorus of the bowling song from the eponymous film. Brienne could not remember ever having a date where everything was so easy. In fact, she became so lost in Jaime’s jokes and performed snippets of _Grease 2 _that she almost didn’t notice when they reached the front of the queue.

“How many games do you want to play?” asked the red-haired woman wearing the name tag saying _Ygritte._

“Two,” said Jaime firmly. “I need one practice go before we play properly.”

Brienne glanced at her watch. It was now 7.15.

_Ned and Cat aren’t arriving until 8.30, _she thought. _I can manage two games._

“That will be fifteen pounds please,” said Ygritte. In a moment, Jaime was reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“No,” said Brienne suddenly, “you paid for the gin and tonics. Let me.”

Jaime shook his head as he got the money out. “You are giving me bowling lessons. Let me get this one. You can get the beers in.”

Brienne smiled. “Okay.”

Once Jaime had handed the money over, Ygritte said, “it’s a two pound deposit on shoes. What size are you?”

Brienne zoned out for a minute, just watching Jaime as he rummaged around for some pound coins. She couldn’t believe he was still here. When she had gone online dating once, she had tried out a photoshop app that had helped her tidy up her face a little, knowing that without it, she wouldn’t get a single match. On seeing her face in the flesh, the only guy she had matched with had claimed he would not have turned up if he knew he was coming on a date with “such a heffer” and stormed out. And yet here was Jaime – this total sex god of a man – making jokes and gently flirting with her. If it hadn’t been cancelled in 2015, Brienne would have thought she was being _Punk’d. _It was that, more than anything, that was keeping her guilt about lying at bay.

“And you?” asked Ygritte, turning to look at Brienne.

“Pardon?” said Brienne, still half looking at Jaime.

“What size shoe are you?”

There was a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. It was not something she was proud of. She leaned forwards towards Ygritte – she wasn’t the prettiest girl, but she clearly carried herself well – hoping she would recognise Brienne’s predicament. “Do you have a Size 12 please?” asked Brienne quietly, hoping Jaime wouldn’t hear her.

As it turned out, Ygritte did not have any social grace or tact. “A Size 12?” she bellowed.

“Yes,” cringed Brienne, before Ygritte went off in search of appropriate shoes. In her embarrassment, it took Brienne a moment to turn back to Jaime, but she found he was smiling.

“You know what they say about women with big feet,” he said.

“No…” replied Brienne, a little confused. “I don’t.”

He laughed. “Neither do I, but there’s a similar suggestive saying about men that I thought needed to be brought up in this context.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to tell me you have _big feet_?”

Jaime ran a hand through his hair, all the while not taking his eyes off her. “_Massive_,” he smirked.

Brienne blushed to the roots of her hair. Trying not to melt under his almost salacious gaze, she said, grinning, “well, why don’t you go and put your massive feet in your massive bowling shoes?” taking his shoes off the desk and thrusting them into his arms.

At that moment, Ygritte was back with Brienne’s shoes. “You’re in Lane Seven. You get your shoe deposits back if you return them in pristine condition, and food and drinks are not sold at this counter but at our bar.” She signalled to the right side of the alley, where there was a small food outlet. Jaime had already headed off to the lane when Brienne asked Ygritte if there was any where she could store her bag.

“Yeah,” said Ygritte in a disinterested manner as she took it off Brienne. “Come and pick it up from here before you leave.”

Brienne gave a nod of thanks before taking her shoes and following Jaime to Lane Seven. When she got there, he had taken off his jacket and was already putting his shoes on, holding his tongue between his teeth as he tried to wrestle, one-handed, with the laces. Without thinking, Brienne got on her knees and took them from him, beginning to tie them in a neat bow.

“You don’t have to,” his said gently and, even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear his blush.

“It’s no bother,” she smiled, “and this way, we can begin bowling classes much quicker.”

Once Jaime’s shoes were tied, Brienne began on her own. In the momentary pause, Jaime went over to the screen and started typing in their names. He did his own first, before turning to her. “How the hell do you spell Daenerys?” he asked.

_Good question, _thought Brienne, her heart hammering. _Why couldn’t he have been meant to go on a date with an Amy or a Sue?_

“Errr…” said Brienne, taking her time to think. “D-A-Y-N-A-I-R-I-S.”

Jaime typed it out slowly with his left hand, but eventually her lie was written on the screen for the whole world to see. That it was there, iridescently glowing above her head, made her feel guilty in a way she hadn’t before. It took Jaime speaking to get her to snap out of it. “So, bowling maestro, how do I go about bowling with my left hand?”

He had got to his feet and walked over to the bowling ball rack, picking up the heaviest one he could find. She walked to towards him and took it off him, putting it back down. “First of all, it is an utter fallacy to think a ball that is too heavy will help you. You want something light and fast. If it’s too heavy, there’s more chance it will slow down, get lost and roll into the gutter.”

“Okay,” said Jaime, looking at the other options, before picking up a lighter bright red ball. “This one?”

She took it off him a moment, weighing it in her hand. “Perfect,” she grinned, handing it back to him. “Now make sure you can hold it easily; you don’t want to be holding on for dear life, but neither do you want to wedge your fingers in there either.”

Watching Jaime slip his graceful fingers inside the ball’s holes made Brienne’s throat a little dry. “Like that?” he asked.

“Sure…” A little flustered, she watched him for a moment as he walked up to the lane. He drew his arm back and she could instantly see his technique was entirely wrong. “Wait! Stop!”

He froze just before the ball left his hand, allowing him enough time to pull it back into his body. “What’s wrong?”

“You need to know where you are aiming,” she said. “Where are you currently planning on your ball hitting the pins?”

He thought about it before saying, “down the middle.”

“Wrong,” she said, before following it with a failure buzzer sound. “If you do that, you’ll just end up with a split.”

“What do you recommend then, oh bowling master?” He was smiling at her with those bloody dimples again.

“You’ve got to aim for the pocket,” she said, drawing next to him so she could point it out. “For right handed bowlers, that is between pins one and three, for left handed bowlers, between pins one and two.” He followed her hand with his eyes, so she was certain he was following. “Now, what you mustn’t do is aim for the pins. You want to aim for the arrows on the lane.” She pointed at them. “As you are a leftie, aim for the second arrow from the left. You want the ball to glide over it.”

From there, she demonstrated the best way to line up his approach, before telling him that on the backswing his arm needed to be straight and close to his body. She also told him he needed to make sure his last step was onto his left foot; that way, the follow through would be so much more powerful.

“Don’t worry, when I want something, I always follow through… _powerfully._”

_I’m not sure if he’s still talking about bowling anymore, _she thought, totally flustered.

Thinking his last statement was some sort of invite, she came up with a plan. “One last thing: your body.”

“What about it?” he asked.

_Is sexy and gorgeous and beautiful and I want to cover it in chocolate and lick it all off._

Taking a step back, she moved behind him. “You are far too uptight. You need to _relax_.”

With that, she put her hands on his shoulders – his broad, muscular, manly man shoulders – and found them very hard. In response, she rubbed little circles into them. “See,” she smiled, “far too tense.”

Part of her knew she was being totally ridiculous, and she went to withdraw her hands, but then he spoke, his voice gruff. “Where else am I too tense?”

_Fucking hell, this guy wants me to touch him, _thought Brienne. _That’s it. My plane must have crashed on a desert island and this is now heaven. It’s the only logical explanation._

With the knowledge that she was in heaven making her bolder, she began to run her hands down his back, feeling the bunched muscles beneath his shirt. They were the type of back muscles that proved God existed, so she felt no qualms in saying, “a little tense.” He just chuckled. As he was offering no resistance, she put both hands on his hips. “You’ve got to be totally loose. Two much tension and you’ll fuck up your shot.”

“Okay,” he said gently, “I think I’ve got it.”

“Great, let’s see how you do.” As she drew back, she made a subtle – but totally and one hundred percently on purpose – swipe of his arse, pretending it was purely accidental. Her suspicions were correct; his arse, like the rest of him, was sculpted by the gods. Noticing what she had done, he shot her a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Trying not to blush, she said, “go on. Let’s see how you do.”

Chuckling to himself, he remembered all her pointers. As expected, he was graceful and powerful in his follow through. In a moment, the bowling ball was soaring down the lane; it even succeeded in rolling in a curve. He hit the pocket almost perfectly, and it led to a perfectly respectable eight.

He jumped round, a jubilant look on his face. “Yes!” he shouted. “It didn’t go in the gutter or anything!”

She could only grin at him. “Well done!”

He cheered and then suddenly she felt his arms around her – his strong, burly arms – and then she was totally melting into him and drowning in the masculine gorgeousness of him. There was even a small part of Brienne’s brain that just wanted to eat him. When he finally released her, she felt so light-headed she nearly fell over. “I’ve just got to get the last two now!” he beamed.

Wanting to regain her composure, she nodded at him before saying, “why don’t you have another go and I’ll go get the beer?” to which Jaime gave her a breezy smile. It took some time to pull herself away from him, but once she did, she found herself almost skipping to the bar.

_Maybe this is a parallel universe,_ she thought, _and I jumped dimensions somehow._

Luckily, there wasn’t a queue at the bar when she deposited herself on one of the stools in front of the barman. “Can I have two _Stellas _please?” she asked. She did not get a response from the barman, however, because he was just staring at her, his blue eyes wide.

“Sorry,” she said, projecting her voice a little louder. “Can I have two _Stellas _please?”

The barman blinked a couple of times before he said, “Brienne? Brienne Tarth?”

_Oh fucking shit bananas._

Brienne looked at the barman, trying to place his face, but she was drawing a total blank. “Do I know you?”

“It’s me!” he said, a broad grin peeping out from under his beard. “Tormund! Tormund Giantsbane! We were in the same form at school!”

Then Brienne saw it. Underneath that giant ginger beard, was the annoying, spotty kid who had practically stalked her for three years and called her “the Big Girl” just to annoy-slash-seduce her. Every day at school when she had bumped into him, she had groaned, but this truly was the worst luck in the world. He could well and truly blow her cover with Jaime.

“Tormund,” she said uneasily, “of course… it’s so nice to see you.”

“You too!” he beamed. “The last time I saw you I was sitting in a tree watching you through my binoculars as you packed to go to university.” She sincerely hoped he was joking. When she didn’t say anymore, he continued. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date with my boyfriend,” she said, pointing back over to Jaime. It was a ridiculous lie, but she thought it might keep Tormund out of her hair.

“Your boyfriend?” asked Tormund, watching as Jaime was gracefully attempting to work out his throw. “_He’s _your boyfriend?”

The incredulity in Tormund’s voice irked Brienne somewhat. Even though Tormund had been borderline obsessed with her at school, it was still apparently somewhat unbelievable to him that Jaime was her boyfriend. “Yes,” she said a little tersely, handing over the money for the beers. “So, although it’s been great to see you, can I just have my beers please and go back to my date?”

Tormund deposited the two _Stellas _in front of her, his shit eating grin still on his face. “Alright, Brienne.” For some reason, he rolled the “r”. Maybe he thought he was being sexually alluring. Picking up the beers, Brienne headed back to Lane Seven, her heart hammering in her chest.

_Oh fuck, _she thought madly. _This is not good._

When she got back to Jaime, he was looking at her quizzically. “Flirting with the barman, were we?”

Brienne snorted. “God no… he just accidentally short changed me.”

“Good,” he said gently, but with a hint of something else in his voice. “Because I warn you, I’m the jealous type.”

With that, Jaime got up to have his next go. They played a few more frames. Brienne got a couple of strikes, and Jaime looked at her like she was some sort of bowling sensei. It was kinda hot. However, for once, Brienne could not get lost in his pretty face. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tormund standing at the bar, repeatedly waving at her, threatening to come over with every passing moment. Realising it was better coming from her than him, Brienne knew she had finally reached the point in the evening when it was time to tell Jaime that she was not, in fact, Daenerys Targaryen, but just a local lunatic who had stolen Daenerys’ date. She just had to rip the plaster off.

After he scored a nine and was smiling enthusiastically, she said, “Jaime, I’ve got a confession to make…”

He looked a little relieved, “to be honest, so have I.”

“Have you?” she asked, genuinely confused.

He let out a little breath. “Yeah.” His face was totally serious and then he said, “I have never heard of _Thirty Five Years of Luck _nor _Ned and the Starks. _I am in no way cool or edgy, even though I pretend to be… and you seem _genuinely _cool and edgy, so I didn’t want to lead you into thinking I was too.”

Jaime was biting his bottom lip, almost as if he were a little nervous. It made her heart flutter. In a moment, Brienne found she was blushing at both his sudden vulnerability and a lusty desire to punch his mouth with her own. Wanting to soothe him, she said, “don’t worry. I am not cool or edgy either. I could probably be more accurately described as a massive dork.”

He chuckled. “Is that above or below a geek?”

Brienne thought about it. “Below a geek, above a nerd.”

At that, a silence suddenly fell, and it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Jaime was just looking into her eyes and smiling at her. She only realised they had been moving towards each other when a voice interrupted.

“Hey, nachos on the house.” Brienne turned her head to find Tormund leaning over them, bearing gifts. He was grinning broadly, his eyes only for Brienne.

_Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck._

“Jaime,” said Brienne suddenly. “Look, it’s your go. Why don’t you go and see if you can get that last pin?”

Jaime grinned. “Watch and weep, Daenerys! I’m practically a bowling champion now.” With that, he got to his feet and went over to the bowling ball rack, taking his time in selecting the right ball. Brienne took her chance. While Jaime was distracted, she walked round to Tormund and pulled him to one side.

“Why did he call you Daenerys?” said Tormund confusedly. “You are Brienne. _Brienne Tarth_. I once checked your birth certificate and everything.”

“Look…” said Brienne, holding Tormund by the shoulder so he couldn’t make any sudden movements towards Jaime. “I’ve got a little _situation _here…” When Tormund furrowed his brow, Brienne began her mad story. “Okay, that guy is not actually my boyfriend… he’s technically not even my _date. _I mean, I sort of stole him from underneath the clock at Waterloo and I’m pretending to be the girl he’s _supposed_to be on a date with… so, it’s a bit… well, I don’t know…”

“Kinky?” Tormund supplied, waggling his eyebrows. That wasn’t what Brienne had been going for, but as she struggled to find the words, she suddenly found Jaime by her side.

“Hey,” he said, extending his hand for Tormund to shake. He wore the most serious expression he had all evening; in fact, there was almost something possessive about it. Even though she was in a panic freefall, there was a small part of her that found the whole thing stupidly sexy. “I’m Jaime,” he said, squeezing Tormund’s fingers firmly. “Who are you?”

Tormund looked marginally terrified as he pointed to his name badge with his free hand. “Tormund.”

When Jaime finally broke the handshake, he looked from Brienne to Tormund and back again, his eyes narrowed. “So, do you two know each other?”

“Barely, we used to go to school together,” said Brienne, as Tormund plumped for, “we’re old friends!”

Brienne tried not to roll her eyes. “We’re old, _old _friends.”

Tormund smile grew and Brienne tried not to freeze with fear. “In fact,” he said, “we used to have a bit of a _thing._”

Jaime was now no longer even really pretending at friendliness when he said, “good for _you_.”

“Yeah, it was good for me,” said Tormund, as if this was a pissing competition.

“Not so good for me, though,” mumbled Brienne. She had never actually been in any form of relationship with Tormund, but she had once been told in a comedy improv class that if another player threw a curveball at you, you just had to go with it. And she was desperate to keep Tormund on his good side, if only that he wouldn’t spill the beans.

“What can I say,” grinned Tormund, turning to look at Brienne. “You never forget your first.”

“Okay then!” shouted Brienne, having had enough of Tormund’s more wacky imaginings. In one movement she grabbed Jaime and shoved him back in the direction of Lane Seven. “Why don’t we go and have some nachos?” Jaime was back down in his seat when Tormund spoke.

“Oh _Daenerys_!” he called, emphasising her fake name in such a way that she knew she had no choice but to go back and talk to him.

“I’ll be one minute, Jaime,” said Brienne gently, dusting her hand lightly across his shoulder. Once she reached Tormund, she pushed him backwards and didn’t let him speak until they were well and truly out of Jaime’s earshot. She didn’t like the smug grin he was wearing.

“Well, well, well, Brienne Tarth. It would appear I finally have you over a barrel,” began Tormund, laughing. “You are not the girl you used to be – cool and confident – now you are reduced to stealing other girl’s dates from underneath clocks!”

Brienne scoffed, not just at Tormund’s assertion that she had ever been cool or confident, but that he was trying to bring her down. “You are working as a barman in a rainforest themed bowling alley. You can’t talk.”

“Ah, but I can,” smiled Tormund. “And I’m going offer you a bargain.”

“I am not going to bargain with you,” insisted Brienne. “I just want you to be _cool _with this Tormund. I am somehow out bowling with a man who actually has a _huge _amount of potential. So I’m asking you… _please _don’t ruin this for me.” She gave him a small smile before she turned away and began to walk back towards Jaime, hoping to appeal to his better nature.

Unfortunately, it turned out Tormund Giantsbane did not have a better nature.

“_Brienne,_” he said, slightly louder, so she was forced to come marching on back. She stood in front of him, her arms folded, waiting for the bargain. “Meet me in the out of order ladies’ toilets in two minutes. Come _alone._”

“We’re not in a fucking spy movie,” spat Brienne.

“I know,” grinned Tormund. “But we _are _going to make a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should say I know absolutely nothing about bowling. All Brienne's tips are from Google so... blame the world's number one search engine if they are wrong!
> 
> Once again, comments and kudos are great! They help me improve as a writer.
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne and Tormund make a bargain...


	6. In the Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Tormund make a deal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for this latest chapter. I am absolutely flying through this - it is so much fun to write. Please leave comments and kudos to tell me how I'm doing - it makes me a better writer!

Brienne eventually managed to pull herself away from Jaime without arousing suspicion by announcing that she needed to powder her nose. “Why don’t you go get some more beers in?” she suggested, knowing that Tormund’s absence might mean that took a while.

“Okay,” he grinned, and she had to fight off the pull of his dimples again, “I’m sure my bowling will only get better with more alcohol.”

She had to purposefully march away to stop herself stupidly grinning at his terrible joke, and she kept watching him all the way to the out of order ladies’ toilet. When she got inside, it was dark and eerily quiet. “Hello?” she whispered. “Tormund?”

Not liking the atmosphere, she turned on the light.

“ARRRGGGHHHHH!” she screamed, when she saw what awaited her.

Tormund Giantsbane was standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a tiny pair of leopard print underpants. “Brienne,” he said, once again rolling the “r”, “you are now not a big girl… but a big woman!”

He made to leap towards her, but she jumped backwards. “What the actual fuck do you think you are doing? Do you regularly walk around in your underwear at work?”

Tormund grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her. “No, just for you my love.”

“Don’t call me _your love_,” she said furiously. “And put your damn clothes on.”

Tormund’s smile widened. “Fine. I’ll get back in my uniform, wander over to Lane Seven and tell, what was his name? Ah yes, _Jaime_… all about Daenerys.”

Brienne’s face went stony. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I _would _dare. I’ve been waiting fifteen years for this!”

Closing her eyes, Brienne thought of Jaime. Jaime, with his bloody cute dimples and his kindness and his deep manly voice and his really strong shoulders and his golden hair that was worth five thousand pounds and his beautiful green eyes and his casual way of flirting and his confidence tempered with a strange vulnerability and his perfectly formed arse and… and… and… Brienne Tarth would never get such an opportunity again.

Looking back at Tormund, she sighed. “What do you want?”

“A blow job.”

Brienne snorted. “Fuck no.”

Then the haggling truly began. Tormund lowered his offer. “A hand job?”

“Nope.”

“Let me touch your tits.”

“I don’t have any, so definitely no,” said Brienne sarcastically.

Tormund started to look a little pained. “A French kiss?”

“Nah.”

“Kiss with tongues?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “That’s the same as a French kiss. And it’s still a no.”

“What about a kiss with no tongues? _Please. _I just want to fulfil a lifelong ambition.” Brienne thought about it. Could she honestly put up with briefly kissing Tormund Giantsbane if it meant the possibility of properly kissing Jaime Lannister later?

_I’m a desperate, sexed up lunatic, _she thought, _but even I have my self-respect._

“No,” she said firmly. “I won’t kiss you.”

Narrowing his eyes, Tormund made a stride towards the door. “If that’s how you want to play it, Little Miss Tarth, I’m going to march right in there and unravel your treacherous web of lies and deceit right in front of dearest _Jaime_.”

With Jaime’s pretty smile rising in her mind’s eye once more, she caught Tormund by his admittedly very hairy shoulder and shoved him backwards. “Alright,” she said exhaustedly. “One kiss.”

“With tongues?” he said hopefully.

“Nope. And I’m going to time it. Five seconds. And then you do not breathe a _word _about me really being Brienne, or about this kiss to anyone, do you understand? But most of all, you keep away from Jaime.”

Tormund nodded enthusiastically. “Anything!”

_Urgh, _thought Brienne. _I’m really going to have to do this._

Tormund shimmied slightly as if readying himself, while Brienne took the tiniest of steps towards him. Her big ginger stalker then closed his eyes and started singing under his breath. “_If you want my body and you think I’m sexy, come on, sugar, tell me so…”_

“Shut up,” Brienne groaned, as Tormund got closer and closer.

“Put your hands on my face,” he pleaded, a little desperately.

“Why?”

His blue eyes suddenly opened shockingly wide. “It’s more romantic that way.”

“There’s nothing fucking romantic about this, Tormund.” He closed his eyes once more and opened his mouth. “Hey! We said no…” Her protest was swallowed, however, because then Tormund’s lips were upon hers. Brienne tried not to be immediately sick in her mouth, but it was very hard, as there was nothing nice about Tormund’s kiss.

_Licked on the nose and kissed by Tormund in one day, _she thought. _Fucking brilliant!_

And then, to top it all off, at that moment Jaime Lannister came strolling into the out of order ladies’ bathroom, looking splendid and lovely in comparison to her pitiful circumstances.

“Hey Daenerys, I just… woah.”

At the sound of his voice Brienne shoved Tormund away, suddenly possessing the strength of He-Man. She looked at Jaime in utter horror. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

The expression on his face was one of utter disbelief, perhaps with a hint of hurt. “You were taking ages so I thought you might have had a fit in the bathroom or something,” he said, his eyes flicking from Brienne to Tormund and back again, “but it just seems to me that you are rekindling your first love while I was waiting outside like an idiot with your beer.”

“This is not what it looks like…” began Brienne, desperately trying to find some words that would explain why it appeared she was trying to get off with human gorilla Tormund in an out of order bathroom while sex god Jaime Lannister sat outside with her drink.

Jaime shook his head bewilderedly before putting his hands up in surrender. “You know what? I thought we had a connection…”

That made Brienne’s heart hammer furiously. “We _do _have a connection…”

He wasn’t listening, however, as he then said, “but it appears you are more interested in getting back with Tormund here.”

At that point, Tormund gave Jaime a smug smile and slung one arm round Brienne’s shoulders. She tensed up instantly. “Yeah,” he smirked. “The lady ain’t interested in you, hombre, so why don’t you leave Brienne _alone.”_

The name _Brienne _clanged noisily round the little bathroom. When he said it, Brienne span round to look at Tormund, who had gone white when he realised his advantage was lost. Pushing him off her, Brienne turned to face Jaime. He was looking very, very confused.

“Who the fuck is Brienne?” Jaime asked her, his brow knitted. “Why is he calling you Brienne?”

Brienne shot Tormund a look that told him she wanted to skin him alive, and he at least had the good grace to wilt. “Well… erm…”

Trying to regain some of the high ground, Tormund suddenly piped up. “It’s a pet name. Sometimes I call her Daenerys… sometimes I call her Brienne.”

That only seemed to imply that Tormund and Brienne were as intimate as it appeared, so Jaime shook his head before saying, “yeah, I think I’m going to go.”

“Wait!” said Brienne, holding her arms up. This wasn’t the way she had wanted to do it, but if she had any chance in keeping Jaime on this date with her, she finally had to unburden her soul. “I think it’s probably best if I told you the truth.”

“What?”

Brienne took a deep breath, “it’s time I confessed.”

_Dearest, loveliest, sexiest Jaime, I have sinned…_

His beautiful face somehow looked even more adorable when he was confused. “Confess to what?”

She sighed. “The reason that Tormund called me Brienne is because… my name is Brienne.”

“Brienne Tarth!” said Tormund excitedly. “She’s Brienne Tarth, we used to go to school together.”

Quickly realising having a semi-naked Tormund in the room was not going to help her convince Jaime to stay on this date with her, she said, “alright Tormund. Could you please put your clothes back on and kindly fuck off?”

He looked a little hurt. “But what about our kiss?”

“Tough luck, sunshine,” she said, as she shoved him out the door of the out of order ladies’ toilets. Finally, she was alone with Jaime and she turned to face him, a knot of dread in her stomach. She found his eyes already fixed on her, his expression expectant.

“Well?” he said.

Brienne screwed up her face. “My name is not Daenerys Targaryen. It’s Brienne Tarth…”

“Brienne… Tarth…” It looked as if all the cogs were wheeling in his brain trying to make sense of what she was saying. He eventually tried scrabbling around for words. “What?”

She tried to think of the best way to explain it. “So, I came up to London today because I was meant to be at an anniversary party…” she checked her watch… “twenty five minutes ago but ended up sat next to this girl on the train called Daenerys Targaryen. She kept babbling on and on about this book she was reading called _Six Billion People and Me…”_

“_And You…_” Jaime corrected.

“Whatever, but anyway she was totally preachy and going on and on and about fate and destiny and paddling… to be honest I don’t think you would have liked her… and then we sort of argued and she left her book on the train for me. So I went to follow her to tell her to shove it up her arse, but then you and I sort of bumped into each other. I was only in here with Tormund because he was threatening to expose the truth, and he said he wouldn’t tell you if I kissed him. He’s a total creep like that.”

She took a deep breath and smiled, feeling this was all so simple that Jaime would totally understand. “But the truth is… I’m not really your blind date, Jaime. You just thought I was what with the book and the clock and the fact we were in Waterloo Station…”

He stared at her with his big green eyes and Brienne suddenly had the desire to go swimming in them. “So you are saying you are not the girl I was supposed to meet earlier.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Nope.”

“WHAT?”

“I know, it’s a little mad… but don’t think of it as mad. Think of it as spontaneous and fun and…"

Jaime looked horrified. “What kind of person waits underneath a clock and steals other women’s dates?”

Brienne scoffed. “I wasn’t _waiting _underneath the clock and, anyway, that girl _gave _me her book, so that’s why you thought I was her.”

Jaime waved his finger at her. “No, no, no, no, no! I thought you were her because when I said _hey, you must be Daenerys, _you didn’t say _no you’ve got the wrong person, _you said _yes _in four different languages!”

“But you can’t blame me!” squeaked Brienne.

He looked at her incredulously, “yes I can.”

“No you can’t!”

“Yes I can!”

“No you can’t!”

“Yes I…” Jaime paused, knowing this was getting ridiculous. “Why the hell do you think I _can’t _blame you for this?”

Brienne blushed as she went to tell him the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you sauntered up with your five thousand pound hair, those bloody dimples of yours, and your crappy puns and I was _charmed, _wasn’t I? You can’t expect me to resist that! So I thought, this doesn’t happen to me very often, and my best friend Sansa is always telling me to open myself to new opportunities and all that bullshit. And I thought that you must have the absolute pick of the women, and stuff like this just _doesn’t _happen to me. So I decided to just go with it and see what happened.”

She hoped that would be enough to convince him, but instead he just stared at her… and stared at her… and stared at her. Even though she knew he was pissed, it somehow made him even sexier. He eventually broke the silence. “Were you ever planning to tell me?”

“There wasn’t a set plan…” she admitted sheepishly. “But I did try to tell you a minute ago, but then you confessed about not knowing who _Ned and the Starks _were.”

That seemed to wound him most of all. “_Ned and the Starks _aren’t even real, are they? Because as you are not actually my blind date, there’s no need for you to have made a list!”

She sighed. “No, they’re not real.”

He made a face of real shock and horror, “and _Thirty Five Years of Luck?”_

“It’s a saying that Sansa’s dad has. That list was my notes for a speech I’m meant to be making at Ned and Cat Stark’s anniversary party. I made the song up on the spot.”

Jaime suddenly looked triumphant. “I _knew _it was a crap song!”

“Hey!” said Brienne, a little indignant that he had criticised her song writing skills. “I tried my best…”

“At lying to me?” he said, on the verge of shouting, “because this is really, _really, _fucked up!”

Brienne’s face fell. “I wouldn’t say _fucked up_. Slightly odd, maybe. I mean, I think people have done worse things in the world.” Part of her thought about making a Nazi joke, but she realised it wasn’t the time or place.

At her attempt at defending herself, Jaime looked at her angrily. “Have they? Really? Because from where I’m standing, it seems you just decided that I was an air-headed pretty boy whose emotions you could just screw around with because you felt like it.”

She suddenly realised he looked genuinely hurt and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. “That’s not what I thought _at all_, Jaime, it’s just I wanted a chance…”

“Well why didn’t you just talk to me?” he asked, his voice aching, “as Brienne Tarth.”

_Brienne Tarth, _she thought. _What a joke. The woman who gets licked and spat on and called a heffer and bitten and cheated on and laughed at. In what world could Brienne Tarth ever go and _just talk _to Jaime Lannister?_

The fact that he was so oblivious just made her angry. “Because I know what men like _you _are like to women like _me_.”

That accusation hung darkly in the air. His face fell and for a moment he looked almost disappointed. “There are no men like me. There is only me.”

She almost couldn’t look into his perfect green eyes anymore, which were filled with condemnation. “Jaime, I…”

He wasn’t having any of it. “Do you know what? Let’s just forget it. I’m going to go.”

“Jaime, wait…” He didn’t wait. After shaking his head, he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. In his absence, the light flickered, and Brienne was left on her own.

_Perhaps this is for the best, _she thought sadly. _He was expecting Daenerys Targaryen, a beautiful, clever, twenty-four year old triathlete. You are not that. __You are ugly, boring Brienne Tarth._

But, looking at the door he had just departed through, she remembered something else he had said: _I thought we had a connection…_

“I think we have a connection too, Jaime,” she muttered under her breath. Her resolve suddenly sharpened. “And I’m not going to waste it.”

With that, she followed him out of the toilets, one hundred percent determined to make Jaime Lannister listen to what she had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Jaime finally knows! I hope you enjoyed that! Please let me know what you think with a lovely comment.
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne chases after Jaime, determined to make him listen...


	7. Triathlon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tries to get Jaime to listen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for yet another chapter! I hope you enjoy it and please leave comments and kudos if you do!

Brienne had to do a little jog to catch up with him. “Jaime! Jaime! Wait up!”

When she drew level, he said, “what do you want, _Daenerys?”_

_“_I just want you to listen,” she pleaded. “I just want to explain.”

“What is there to explain?” he said angrily, marching back over in the direction of Lane Seven.

“Even though I was pretending to be Daenerys, everything I told you was true, everything other than my name.”

“Really?” he snorted. “What? Including that you were the number one fan of the made up band _Ned and the Starks?”_

“Well… that was…”

“Or what about your claims to be an award winning triathlete?”

“That one sort of came along with the Daenerys identity. I didn’t actually make that one up, per se…”

He stopped walking. “Are you even twenty-four?”

Brienne bit her lip. “Maybe add eight…”

Jaime looked horrified. “Oh my god!”

“Hey, don’t have a go at me!” she said indignantly, “I’m not the thirty-seven year old divorcee who thought he could solve all his problems by going out with twenty-four year olds!”

Jaime got angry at that, even as he went a little red. “That’s _not _why I wanted to go out with Daenerys. Tyrion said we were a good match and… hang on a second, why am I even trying to justify myself to you? You basically kidnapped me! You might as well have tied a rope around me and dragged me round the South Bank all evening!”

“I did not _kidnap _you,” said Brienne tartly. “You came along willingly to the bowling alley with me. You said it sounded like fun, and you weren’t objecting when I was teaching you how to bowl left-handed.”

That seemed to soften Jaime’s expression slightly and a seed of hope grew in Brienne’s heart. “Has any of it been true?” he asked. “Any of it at all?”

It all came out in a rush. “I am a really good bowler; I did play for my county. My best friend really is called Sansa, and she’s the most awesome woman in the world. And I do like _The Clash,_” she said, pointing at her shirt.

He looked at the floor, “it’s just everything else that was a lie then?”

“No!” she said desperately, “everything else was _me_. I promise.”

She lifted her hand to touch him, but he batted her away. “Why am I even discussing this?” he muttered, shaking his head. Choosing not to look at her, he returned to Lane Seven where he began taking off his bowling shoes. Brienne knelt down to help him, but he snapped, “I don’t need your help.”

Withdrawing, she sat down next to him and started taking off her own shoes. When she was back in her boots with her bowling shoes sat on the chair beside her, he was still fiddling around with his first set of laces. As the time dragged painfully on, he eventually grunted, “okay. You can help me if you want.”

Getting down on her knees in front of him, she began to undo his laces, trying not to look at his handsome face. It was flushed so beautifully with embarrassment, and the delicacy of his features made it seem like he had been painted by an Old Master. Once his normal shoes were back on, she tried to be consoling and said, “don’t worry, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about…”

“I’m _not _embarrassed,” he hissed as he got to his feet, putting his jacket over his right arm and picking up the bowling shoes with his left. She copied him, trotting along behind him in silence until they reached the desk.

_Think Brienne, think! There must be something you can say to him that will win him round…_

Ygritte was looking highly bored by the time Jaime slammed his bowling shoes down on the desk. “Are you finished?” she asked. “I thought you were going to play two games?”

“We’re finished,” said Jaime resolutely, not looking at Brienne. Ygritte just shrugged and started rummaging around in the till for the deposits for their shoes.

_Think! Think! Think!_

Trying to prolong the moment before she had to say goodbye to Jaime, she got Ygritte’s attention and asked, “excuse me, I also left my bag here.”

“And me,” said Jaime.

Ygritte shook her head. “No, only she left a bag. You ran off with your massive bowling shoes before depositing anything.” Brienne blushed at the memory of Jaime’s stupid joke. He had been smiling at her then.

Jaime furrowed as his brow as Ygritte passed Brienne’s bag across the counter. “But I must have done otherwise… where is it? It’s got my laptop in there and everything!”

He turned to Brienne, looking at her as if she might suddenly be able to pull it out of her arse. “I don’t know,” she said grumpily. Opening her own bag, she went to check she had everything. Right at the top was her notebook. Flipping it open with one hand, her mouth dropped open when she saw what the first thing written at the top of the page was:

_1\. I dislike Chinese food_

“Oh my god,” said Brienne suddenly, a plan forming in her head.

“What?”

“I picked up your notebook. Mine’s obviously in your bag.”

Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose. “For fuck’s sake…”

“Where did you last have it?”

Ygritte took this opportunity to peace out as Jaime ran his hair through his Greek sun god hair. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “At _The Red Keep? _Actually, I _must _have had it there because I got my notebook out in the first place."

“Right,” said Brienne authoritatively, “we’ll go there then.”

Jaime snorted. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Why not? I need my notebook. It has my speech in it.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “Your speech was three lines long.”

“I have anterograde amnesia,” insisted Brienne, “I don’t remember things well.” She did not think it was wise to tell him that she had nicked anterograde amnesia as a concept from a film; it was the condition suffered by Drew Barrymore in _50 First Dates. _Instead, she just gave him a tight smile. “I _need _my notebook.”

“Fine,” he huffed, before a light bulb went off in his head. “Come to think of it, I probably left my bag in the toilets at the bar.”

“Well let’s go find it!” With that, the two of them left the bowling alley silently, not quite looking at each other.

The bickering only started when they got outside and Jaime lifted an arm up, seemingly hailing a cab from out the aether. “What are you doing?” asked Brienne.

Jaime looked at her like she was a mad woman. “I’m getting a cab so I can get back to the bar.”

“But it’s a ten minute walk,” Brienne said, “I thought you said you cared about your fitness.”

“No it’s not! It’s like… twenty minutes.”

“_Oh no_!” said Brienne sarcastically, “not an extra _ten minutes_. Your legs might fall off. And anyway, you are wrong. There is no way it took us twenty minutes to walk here.” Brienne was quite certain of it as she had been keeping a check of the time all evening because she knew at some point she would have to turn up to Ned and Cat’s party.

“You seem awfully certain the walk is only ten minutes, _Brienne_,” spat Jaime, emphasising her real name.

She was starting to think he was being a bit petty about this whole Daenerys Targaryen thing. “That’s because it’s a fact, Jaime!” Brienne insisted.

Jaime raised his eyebrows and looked at her incredulously. “Oh, it’s a _fact _is it? Like the _fact _that you are a triathlete?” Brienne shook her head in disbelief; he was behaving like a child. She went to respond to that, but he beat her to it. “Right, do you know what? Here’s a good idea. Why don’t you run, swim, and cycle to the bar and see who gets there first?”

“What?”

Jaime snorted again. “You don’t even know what a triathlon is, do you?”

Now he was just being patronising. “Of course I do!”

“You do, do you?”

“Yeah!”

He gave her a mocking grin. “Well ready, steady…”

Brienne was sprinting down the road before he had a chance to finish. As she bolted away, she heard him throw himself into the taxi and shout “GO! GO! GO!” at the very confused driver.

_I will not let that smug, sexy bastard win, _she thought furiously as she charged down the road, desperately trying to remember where _The Red Keep _was. It had clearly taken Jaime some time to tell the cabbie where he actually wanted to go, as Brienne was three quarters of the way down the street before she heard the rev of the engine. She was starting to pant by the time the cab drew level with her. Looking to her right, she saw Jaime stretch out, like he was having a great old time relaxing in the back of the taxi. When he started sarcastically waving at her, she lost her temper and gave him the middle finger, which he returned in earnest.

“Twat,” she muttered to herself as she careered off down a side street, figuring that while Jaime would be forced to take the main roads, she could use the pedestrianised zones. Annoyingly for her, down the first alley there was a cordoned off area where some builders were attempting to replace some pipes.

“Watch it, love!” one of the builders who had half his arse on show said, as Brienne started hurdling over the barriers.

_Screw you, Jaime, _she thought. _I’m a fucking athlete!_

After she got to the end of the first alleyway, she had a great deal of fun slowly walking across a zebra crossing at which Jaime’s cab had been forced to stop at. He rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and starting staring daggers at her. “Oi! That’s cheating!”

“No it’s not!” she laughed evilly. “I’m just following the Green Cross Code!”

She immediately picked up her pace once she got down yet another side street but then found, to her horror, it was filled with drunken hen do revellers. “GET OUT THE WAY!” Brienne shouted as she began to push them furiously to each side. As she finally managed to shove past the rowdiest of them, she had a humorous thought that if this was viewed from above, it would have appeared she had “swum” through the drunken hens.

When she appeared in the next main road, she could not see Jaime, so part of her feared that the taxi driver had found a shortcut to the bar that only he knew.

_Fuck, I’m going to lose, _she thought madly.

Then, just in front of her, Brienne saw something miraculous. Standing under a lamppost, bathed in electric light, was Podrick Payne, her neighbour who lived in the flat above her. He grinned when he saw her. “Hey! Brienne! I just wondered if you had any post…?”

Brienne did not have time for niceties, however, as the reason for his miraculous appearance was not his cute little face but the fact he was sat astride a very nice looking Boris bike. With one well-placed shove, he went flying off it, and Brienne stole the bike from underneath him with a practiced grab.

“Sorry Pod!” she yelled as she peddled down the road. “I owe you one!”

As the wheels of the bike turned faster and faster, Brienne suddenly started regretting the gin and tonics and the beer. Perhaps award winning triathletes generally didn’t run races on stomachs full of alcohol.

“MOVE!” she screamed at a sweet old lady who tried to walk slowly in front of her bike.

She turned a corner and there, in the distance was _The Red Keep. _As she frantically pedalled forward a few more times, she suddenly saw Jaime’s cab appear down the other end of the street.

_Oh no you don’t!_

Pedalling faster, and faster, and faster, she was determined that he would not win. She had the impression that Jaime Lannister would make an insufferable winner and she would never hear the end of it even he reached the door of the bar before her. Even though part of her definitely wanted to never hear the end of it from him, another part wanted to crush him.

_Between my thighs,_ the embattled sexed up part of her brain thought.

In the end, Brienne skidded to a halt in front of _The Red Keep _just as Jaime got out of his cab.

“I win!” they both shouted at the same time.

“You don’t win,” insisted Jaime, “I’m closer to the door!”

“Well I’m…”

Brienne did not have time to finish her point, however, as her body finally made its objections to her attempt to run a triathlon known. In a moment, she was doubled over, vomiting up all the ill-advised alcohol she had drunk that afternoon. She tried to steady herself against the wall, feeling a little woozy. As little flecks of half-eaten god-knows-what splattered over her boots, she was very glad she couldn’t see Jaime’s face.

“Oh, are you alright?” he asked, a little tentatively. A second later, she felt a hand on her back and then he brushed her hair over her shoulders, so it wouldn’t get in the way if she needed to be sick again. Half of her thought this was the most arousing thing that had ever happened to her, the other half a little weirded out by the discovery of a kink she wasn’t aware she had.

After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stood back up, deciding to look victorious like the winner she was. “It was a tactical puke,” she insisted. “All triathletes do it.”

She looked into his green eyes and was surprised to see the taunting mockery had vanished. “Still…” he said. “Mint?” Looking down, she saw he was extending a pack of _Polos _at her.

_Oh fuck, _the small lizard part of her brain said. _A date will only offer you a mint if you are going to imminently stick your tongues down each other throats._

The more rational part of her mind immediately objected. _You just vommed on your own shoes. Calm down._

Thanking him for the mint, she was disappointed to see that the second he had tucked the _Polos _back into his pocket, Jaime’s face went stony once more. “Let’s go and find my bag,” he said, not looking at her, before pushing his way into the bar. Brienne could only follow.

Once they were inside, he immediately made his way to the barman. “Bronn,” Jaime said, his voice stern. “Did I leave my bag in here earlier? Perhaps in the toilets?”

Bronn wrinkled his nose, thinking, before replying. “Oh yeah. I think someone found a bag in there and handed it over to Shae. I’ll go see where she put it.”

With that, Bronn disappeared through a door behind the bar. Brienne tried to think of something to say, but she could see that Jaime was determined to keep his beautiful eyes on the ten green bottles lined up on the wall. In a moment, Brienne knew everything was lost. There was nothing more she could do to get his attention, nothing more that would save this, nothing more that would return the date to the easy flirtation that had characterised the beginning. Brienne sighed.

“I’m going to the ladies,” she said quietly. She needed to get cleaned up; she was sweaty and covered in vomit, after all.

He snorted, before turning around to look at her. “Planning to seduce another ex-boyfriend, are you?”

Brienne tried not to let the hurt show on her face. It was clear Jaime could be a bit of an arsehole when he wanted. “No,” she snapped, “so there’s no need for you to follow me in there. I’ll be back for my notebook in a minute.” Turning away from him, she ran away from him, determined to hide from him as long as possible.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

The toilets were quiet. After taking off her boots and washing them in the sink, Brienne went over to one of the cubicles and locked herself in. Feeling a sweaty, pukey mess, she took off her clothes and quickly rummaged around for the dress she had bought for the party. It was a light, cerulean summer dress that came down to her knees. Brienne had not wanted to wear it but a week before she had gone out shopping with Sansa, and her best friend had forced her to buy it with a promise she would wear it to Ned and Cat’s party.

_You were never going to make this work, _she told herself as she looked for her sandals in her bag. _You are in different leagues, on different planets. Why did you think a change of name could alter that?_

Once she had her shoes on, she went back out so she could look in the mirror. Brienne hadn’t noticed she was crying until she saw the tracks of eyeliner running down her cheeks. She decided to concentrate on her make-up smeared face, instead of trying to reply to one of the numerous messages and missed calls she had from Sansa.

_You’re a fucking idiot, _she thought as she found her make up remover and started cleaning her face. _Jaime’s not horrified at the lie; he’s horrified that he’s on a date with you. Yes, he may not have liked the real Daenerys Targaryen either, but it doesn’t mean he would have ever liked you. The only men who have ever wanted you are creepy stalkers like Tormund, or cheating arseholes like Hyle, or people like _him _who tried to kill you when you didn’t give him what he wanted…_

Once her make-up was removed, she started applying a new layer. It was less heavy-metal, softer, to go with the dress.

_Here we go, trying to make yourself look feminine. It never works. You are still the ugly tree trunk you normally are. Well, maybe I can hide away at the party. Maybe Ned and Cat will let me go upstairs and cry my heart out in the spare bedroom. What a brilliant end to my night._

After spraying herself with deodorant, Brienne thought it was the best she could manage and, after making sure she had everything in her bag, she made her way out of the toilet. As she crossed the bar, she could see Bronn in the process of giving Jaime his bag. Once he had it in hand, he rummaged around inside and found her notebook.

_It’s over._

When she finally reached him, she extended her hand out, holding his notebook before him. “There you go,” she said simply.

Jaime did not speak immediately. Instead, he looked at her from head to toe and back again with those laser-like green eyes of his. Brienne tried to suppress a shiver.

“You changed clothes,” he said gently.

“Well, yeah,” she replied. “I don’t want to go to the Stark’s party with vomit all over me.”

His mouth quirked into something almost approaching a smile. “Good point.”

As he was not taking his notebook from her, she put it down on the bar and took her own from him, tucking it under her arm. Determined not to let him leave them on a sour note, she said, “it was nice to meet you, Jaime. I hope you have a pleasant rest of your evening.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her, even as he nodded. She wondered whether he was trying to find something to say, but she never found out as a voice broke across the silence.

“What the fuck are _you _doing here?”

Brienne turned her head to the source of the noise. It was a beautiful blonde woman in a long red dress, who had her arm round the waist of the man in a leather jacket who was standing beside her. Even though Brienne wasn’t looking at him, she could feel Jaime bristling beside her.

“Cersei?” he said incredulously.

_Oh shit, _thought Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are now getting a little tricky! Let me know what you think in a comment!
> 
> Next time... Jaime and Brienne have to contend with Cersei's appearance at the bar...


	8. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne have to contend with Cersei's appearance at the bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for another chapter! This one has been so much fun to write and I would love to know how you think I have been doing with a comment or kudos!

“Cersei?” said Jaime, his eyes wide.

Cersei was one of the most beautiful women that Brienne had ever seen. She had long blonde hair down to her waist and rosebud lips that Brienne had been sure did not exist outside fairy tales. Everything about her looked as if it had been created purely to be beautiful, with no function at all.

_Of course this is Jaime’s ex-wife, _thought Brienne. _Of course._

Cersei did not smile, but just curled her lip into a snarl. “Oh, I’m glad you remember my name, Jaime. We were married nineteen years.”

_Nineteen years? _thought Brienne, turning to look at Jaime. _If they were married nineteen years, it must mean Jaime was eighteen when he got married. _That was such a revelation that made Brienne’s mouth drop open.

“Hello Jaime,” said the man in the leather jacket.

“Fuck off Euron,” replied Jaime, before turning to Cersei again. “What are you doing here?”

Cersei shrugged. “It’s date night. Why not come to my favourite bar?”

“We agreed this was now _my bar,_” said Jaime, his voice rising. “You got _The Sept of Baelor, _I got _The Red Keep. _We agreed.”

“Come on Jaime,” said Fuck off Euron, “that’s ridiculous. People don’t own bars.” Brienne turned to look at him properly and, even though he had something of a swaggering carefree pirate about him (with a hint of megalomaniac wizard), she secretly thought he was a step down from Jaime, if not a whole spiral staircase. Not that she would tell Jaime that, mind.

“And anyway,” added Cersei nastily, “why do you even bother coming here? To drown your sorrows? To make out with Bronn? Why does a sad, pathetic, single, thirty-something divorcee need to come to a bar? You’ll just scare all the girls away with your self-pity.”

Jaime flinched with every single insult Cersei landed on him, as if she were slapping him. Brienne desperately hoped he would have something to say back; some stupid jibe, some funny quip, but instead he just seemed to go red and stare at Cersei, then Fuck off Euron, then Cersei, then Fuck off Euron, as if he couldn’t believe the universe was playing such a sick joke on him. He just looked so lost that Brienne couldn’t take it anymore.

“He’s not here alone,” she said sharply, looking directly at Cersei’s pretty face which just got uglier every time she opened her mouth. “He’s here with me.”

“And who are you?” scoffed Cersei.

_I’m Daenerys fucking Targaryen, his blind date._

Brienne turned back to look at Jaime, and her words seemed to spur him into action. Standing up a little straighter, he put an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The next words that came out of his mouth nearly made Brienne choke. “This is Brienne, she’s my girlfriend. We’re here on a date too.”

_I don’t remember taking those magic mushrooms, _thought Brienne.

Jaime was staring at her quite intently, almost begging her to corroborate his mad story. “Yes,” she squeaked in response, conscious of Jaime’s graceful – but incredibly manly – hand on her hip. “I’m Brienne.” It was all she could say given the situation.

Taking the improvisation to the next level, Jaime then said, “Brienne, this is my ex-wife, Cersei, and this is Euron, the man she left me for.”

Jaime and Brienne turned back to look at Cersei and Fuck off Euron almost simultaneously. Fuck off Euron was giving a dazed little smile, while Cersei looked nothing less than incandescent. “Oh, coming down in the world are we, Jaime?” said Cersei, eyeing Brienne up and down.

Brienne went to say something to defend herself, but to her surprise Jaime spoke first. “No, I’m not _coming down _in the world. For your information, Brienne is great. She’s funny and kind and is a great bowler… and she has really astonishing eyes.” Ignoring the weird feeling in her stomach, Brienne kept her eyes trained on Cersei’s stupid gloating face. She almost couldn’t bear to turn around and look at Jaime and see his obvious acting.

Expecting Cersei to bite back, Brienne was surprised when Fuck off Euron spoke up, sounding like some stoned hippie. “Hey, hey! There’s no need to fight. Make love, not war. We’re all mature, responsible adults in a bar with our new partners. Why don’t we have a drink together?”

“What?” said Jaime and Brienne in unison.

For some strange reason, Fuck off Euron’s suggestion only made Cersei smile. “Why not?” she smirked. “It will show there’s no hard feelings.” Even though Cersei was grinning as she said it, Brienne could tell there were a _lot _of hard feelings.

“We have a table,” said Fuck off Euron, signalling to one over in the corner. Just as he said it, Brienne could have sworn she heard Jaime mutter _that was our table, _under his breath. Ignoring his murmured objection, Cersei and Fuck off Euron made their way, arm in arm, over to the table. It gave Jaime and Brienne a moment alone and he used the opportunity to take his hand off her waist.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brienne asked Jaime.

“Cersei’s taken one look at you and decided to turn this into a pissing contest, and we can’t let her win,” said Jaime, his green eyes trained on Cersei’s back.

For a moment, Brienne wondered if Jaime was genuinely worried about Cersei hurting her, but then she noticed how fixated he was on his ex-wife and felt a little disappointed. “No, I mean why did you say I was your girlfriend?”

When she said that, she finally got his attention. “For one, you owe me.”

“Do I?” snorted Brienne, “for what exactly?”

Jaime gave her a mocking grin. “Costing me my date with the _delectable _Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Why are you still so hung up on that?” she asked, a little grumpily.

“And two,” he interrupted, “you are great at pretending to be people you’re not. It can’t hurt to pretend to be my girlfriend for half an hour.”

_I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend for the rest of our lives if you want, _she thought a little sadly.

“And thirdly, you came out of the toilets looking like…” he hesitated, “wearing _that, _and I thought what better way to get closure than rubbing my new leggy blonde girlfriend in Cersei’s smug face?”

Brienne pulled a disapproving expression at that. “Are you sure it is _Cersei _turning this into a pissing contest?”

He pouted a little. “Please?”

Brienne sighed. “Alright, but you’ve got to promise me one thing.”

"What?"

“No more of this Daenerys Targaryen thing. If I pretend to be your girlfriend, you can’t get up on your high horse about people pretending to be things they’re not. Deal?”

Jaime thought about it for a moment, before extending his hand towards her and saying, “deal.”

Once they had shaken on it, he looped his arm around her once more and directed her to the table already occupied by Cersei and Fuck off Euron. The pair were already all over each other, and Brienne could feel Jaime stiffening beside her. She clearly wasn’t the only one to notice the tension either, as the second Brienne and Jaime sat down, Bronn the barman had appeared and started taking drinks orders.

“You don’t normally do table service here,” said Cersei accusingly.

“Oh,” said Bronn. “It’s a new thing we’re trying out.”

By the time Bronn returned a few moments later with their beers, the pissing contest had well and truly begun. Cersei had put an arm round Fuck off Euron’s shoulder and put her other hand on his face, giving him a peck on the cheek. Bronn quietly made his exit at that point, not wanting to be a witness to their sex show, as Fuck off Euron started raising his eyebrows at Jaime as a challenge, while Cersei ran her fingers through his hair.

Brienne wasn’t quite sure of the best way to counter this obvious provocation, but she eventually decided she liked Jaime’s tactics. As Cersei broke away from Fuck off Euron and gave her ex-husband a nasty grin, Jaime leant over and kissed Brienne’s neck. When telling the story later, Brienne could have sworn both her ovaries exploded and her skin melted. Even as she totally lost control of her ability to act like a human being, Jaime carved a trail of kisses up her neck, making her burn every time his lips touched her skin.

“Flasjnndjaaa…” moaned Brienne, as Fuck off Euron looked at her like she was having some kind of fit. Her situation was not made remotely better when Jaime snaked his arm around her shoulder and caught the other side of her head with his hand, pulling her closer to him, running his fingers through her hair. She could have even sworn that for some of his kisses he sucked at her slightly, and the pressure was enough that it could leave marks.

_Who gives a flying fuck if it feels like this…?_

It eventually got a little too much when he got to the soft patch of skin behind her ear and focussed on the area quite intensely. Enjoying it, Brienne reached across to touch his face, and she could have sworn he made a little moan when she began running her fingers along his jaw. He even began upping the intensity of his kiss by moving his lips to her ear and nipping her earlobe with his teeth. At Brienne’s loud squeak of satisfaction, Cersei made an offended sounding cough, which caused Jaime to snap to his senses and pull away.

_Fuuuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkk…_

“So,” said Cersei, her voice dripping with acid as she looked Brienne up and down. “I didn’t know you were into giants, Jaime.”

When Brienne looked at Jaime, she was surprised to see he looked dazed. Brienne had to nudge him to get a response. “What?”

“I said,” repeated Cersei, “I didn’t know you were into giants.”

“I’m not into giants…” he said, still a little confused.

_For fuck’s sake, Jaime, _thought Brienne as her rational brain slowly woke up. _Stop letting her treat you like a punchbag, and me by extension. Fight back!_

Sensing Jaime wasn’t going to do it himself, Brienne said, “oh, it works for us. As we’re really close in height, it makes it easy to come in each other’s mouths at the same time, doesn’t it babe?”

She turned to look at Jaime once more only to find him choking on air and rapidly turning the colour of a sundried tomato. When he eventually found the courage to look into Brienne’s eyes, he said, “something like that.”

Brienne snapped back to look at Cersei, enjoying herself immensely at the sight of the aneurism she was giving Jaime. “I mean, before I met Jaime, I was quite the prude. I was a missionary position in my pyjamas at the weekend kind of girl, you know what I’m saying?” Cersei and Fuck off Euron looked a little worried, so Brienne continued.

“But Jaime introduced me to all sorts; 69ing, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, the Spider, the Waterfall, the Wheelbarrow, the Butter Churner, the Pretzel, the Spork, the Snow Angel, the Valedictorian, the Pogo Stick. Every position in the _Kama Sutra_, we’ve tried… twice.” Looking at Jaime, she realised how much she loved making his eyes go wider and wider with every increasingly ridiculous position. She couldn’t decide whether she liked his shock or slight arousal more. “Do you remember that time at Dick Crabb’s, babe, where I was like _I don’t feel like it, _and you were like, _I’ll totally blow your mind, _and I was like, _oh okay then let’s go in the garden, _and then we started doing it and I was like _Jaime, I’m having fun but I’m a bit scared _because I couldn’t see, but the more we moved with it I was like _woah _and then you were like _fuck yes Brienne, oh my god yes _and then the sprinklers came on?”

He nodded along like that this totally fictious sex game had one hundred percent happened. “And then I totally jack hammered you?” he suggested. Knowing the rules of comedy improv, Brienne went along with it, nodding and winking at him.

“Totally,” she beamed as Jaime suddenly drew her to him quite tightly, an amused smile crossing his handsome face. As one, they turned to look victoriously at Cersei and Fuck off Euron, knowing they had well and truly bitch-slapped them at the pissing contest. Finishing the story, Brienne crowned their sexual adventures with, “I didn’t believe in multiple orgasms before Jaime but, I tell you what, once you go the blond sex god route you never go back.”

“And blonde sex goddess route,” Jaime added. Brienne tried not to laugh.

Cersei had gone very pale. In her fury, she took her arms from around Fuck off Euron and crossed them in front of her chest. “Where did you two meet, then? At an orgy?”

“At work,” suggested Jaime, while Brienne said, “at a party.”

“At a work party,” they eventually said in unison.

Cersei raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Brienne. “So you work at whatever boring job dad makes Jaime do, then?”

Feeling slightly confused at the fact Cersei called Jaime’s father _dad, _Brienne said, “no. I’m a firefighter.” It was what she had always wanted to be as a kid.

“Then how the fuck did you meet at a work party?” asked Cersei, irritated.

“There was a fire…” said Jaime slowly. “At the work party…”

“In Jaime’s pants,” suggested Brienne as Jaime spluttered with laughter. “But I don’t think I helped put it out. I just inflamed it more.” Cersei only got angrier as Jaime and Brienne’s laughter increased. Brienne wondered if she could think of any more silly sex scenarios to get him laughing. She liked it when he laughed; it brought out the kindness in his eyes.

“Well I’m a modelling talent scout,” said Cersei, trying to shut the two of them up. Apparently, they had moved on from sex stories and were now playing one-upmanship on who had the best jobs that paid the most, “and Euron here is a merchant banker.”

“You know merchant banker is cockney rhyming slang for wanker,” said Jaime, still laughing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” spat Cersei. “Why do you always have to be an utter twat to Euron every time you see him? It’s been a year.”

Jaime’s laughter died instantly. “I don’t know, perhaps it has something to do with the fact I came home from seeing my therapist to find him shagging my wife in our marital bed.”

“Oh my god,” said Cersei, rolling her eyes. “It wasn’t my fault you’d stopped bothering to satisfy me anymore. If you’d finished being so self-pitying for five minutes and actually attempted to get it up, we might still be married now.”

Brienne wasn’t sure she had ever met anyone quite as casually cruel as Cersei. “Hey, there’s no need for that…” she said, but Jaime clearly felt he wanted to air all his emotional issues in public.

“Well maybe if you had turned around and noticed that I needed my wife as a friend more than I needed her as a lover, we could have worked through a bad patch. But you were much more interested in ripping everything to shreds and revealing what an evil bitch you are.”

“Don’t you dare…” began Fuck off Euron, but Jaime was up on his feet, shaking his head.

“Fuck off Euron,” he said for the second time that evening, his eyes glistening. “I want to be alone. I need a piss.” After bumping into a poor girl who was standing behind him, knocking her vodka and coke all over the floor, Jaime charged off in the direction of the toilets, his face red with emotion. Brienne got up to follow him but stopped herself when Cersei spoke.

“He’s always like this,” sighed Cersei, shaking her head.

“Like what?” asked Brienne.

“Over-emotional. I don’t know how you put up with it. What sort of man starts crying in the middle of a bar for god’s sake?”

_The sort of man who is trying to deal with the end of his nineteen-year long marriage to his total bitch of an ex-wife, perhaps?_

“What’s he being _over-emotional _about?” asked Brienne, creating little scare quotes with her fingers. “From where I’m sitting, it seems he’s just had to deal with the sudden appearance of his ex-wife and her bit on the side at a bar you had previously decided was his.”

“Hey,” said Fuck off Euron, his manic eyes slightly wide. “I’m not her bit on the side.”

“Well, how long have you two been a thing?” asked Brienne. “Was it just the once? Or had you been engaging in a bit of adult naptime long before Jaime caught you?”

“We’ve been doing it a year,” said Cersei as Fuck off Euron chimed in with, “five years.” His truth earned him a dirty look from the blonde devil.

“So you had a long-term affair?” asked Brienne accusingly.

Both Cersei and Fuck off Euron shook their heads at the same time. “We fell in love,” said Cersei, trying to justify it.

“While you were married to Jaime?”

Cersei folded her arms. “The two _may _have overlapped.”

“So you _were _having an affair then?”

Cersei and Fuck off Euron looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Brienne, nodding in unison. “Yeah, we were having an affair,” said Cersei, eventually.

“Well,” said Brienne sarcastically getting to her feet. “I wonder what Jaime could possibly have to be _over-emotional _about?”

Cersei gave her one final sullen look before Brienne turned around and went to find Jaime. She didn’t really want to spend the rest of the evening bitching at his ex-wife; she’d rather spend it with him. Brienne found him to the side of the dancefloor, trying to compose himself. As she approached, he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and then did not quite look at her. “I’m sorry I left you with her,” he said a little stiffly. “She can be an utter cow sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” said Brienne lightly. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the official reason you put on the divorce papers.”

With that, Jaime looked up at her and gave her a little smile. “Unfortunately, it was not me that initiated the divorce, so I didn’t get my chance. Apparently, it was unreasonable behaviour for me to lose my hand in Afghanistan and then be a bit sad about it.”

Brienne shook her head, before saying sarcastically, “totally unreasonable.” That genuinely elicited a chuckle from him, and it sounded friendly, almost affectionate, so she found herself moving towards him to put a hand on his shoulder. At the contact, he stood straighter, and she was rewarded with a look in his green eyes that almost seemed naked. “The way I see it, it’s only good for you,” she began gently. “It’s better to be the one who gets dumped; you only have to deal with being the wronged party. In contrast, she has to live with being an unsupportive wife who had an affair and then ended it for the rest of her life. And she can bitch all she wants about you coming down in the world by going out with me, but has she seen Euron in comparison to you? She’s fallen down several flights of stairs with that one.”

He blushed slightly as he smiled, before saying, “you’re only saying that because you are super attracted to me in this made up world where I’m some sort of sex fiend that we’ve just invented.”

Brienne wanted to say _I’m super attracted to you in this world too, _but she could not find the courage. Instead, she said, “nah, it’s the truth. I have a large collection of leather jackets and I’m telling you now, Euron has a terrible taste in them.”

Jaime smiled once more, and she was pleased to see that the dimples were finally back. “Why don’t you come dance with me?” he said gently. “You can help me show her what she’s missing.” Brienne nodded, letting him take her hand so he could lead her to the dancefloor. Part of her brain hoped something romantic would come on, but just then the opening few bars of the _Macarena _started blaring out on the bar’s speakers. It made her laugh.

“Does anyone even know the lyrics to this?” Brienne asked, as she stuck her arms out in time with the music.

“Don’t think so,” responded Jaime, as he started doing the same.

Once the movements of the dance meant they were both pointing in the right direction to talk to each other, Brienne asked, “please tell me you didn’t spend too much on the wedding. At least tell me it was cheap and cheerful, so it was just your heart and not your wallet that got hurt.”

“Actually,” said Jaime hesitantly, “because my dad was so against it, we had to get married at an old family friend’s chateau in the south of France. I thought it was a favour, but Randyll Tarly is a money grabbing old git, so he made me pay all fifty thousand pounds back over the next ten years. And then I got Cersei a ring; the first one I got cost five hundred pounds and, as I was a lovestruck eighteen year old, I thought that would be enough. Cersei didn’t though. When we had more money a few years later, she made me replace it with a ten thousand pound one from _Tiffany’s_. I’ve only just finished paying the debt off.”

Brienne’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You spent sixty thousand pounds on a party and some jewellery?”

“It wasn’t just a party and some jewellery,” said Jaime sullenly. “It was a symbol of our love.”

“Some love that was,” snorted Brienne. “She got with a leather-jacket wearing merchant banker while you were very traditional about the whole not sleeping around while you are married thing.”

“It was a grand gesture, even though it went wrong,” he insisted.

“A grand gesture that meant nothing. Words are wind, Jaime, it’s actions that count.”

Jaime stopped dancing suddenly. “You are such a cynic.”

“And you are such a hopeless romantic,” said Brienne, copying him. “It’s not the gifts and chocolates and heart eyes that make a relationship, it’s keeping the vows you make to each other. From two minutes in Cersei’s company, it is really clear that even though you tried the whole romance bullshit, she had no intention on keeping her promises. She just saw you as something to use.”

He looked offended at that. “I kept my vows, though. I’m no oath breaker; I was always faithful. It still meant something.”

“Really?” said Brienne derisively. Hyle had been quick to use flashy words and sweet gestures, but then she had found him in bed with a stripper. “You were so caught up in her beauty, you couldn’t see that she was demanding things from you right from the beginning. You threw sixty thousand pounds at her in the hope that it would mend the breach and it wasn’t enough. Your grand romance was never what you thought it was because you couldn’t see what was right in front of your eyes; that she was a user right from the beginning.”

“Oh, here we go again,” snapped Jaime. “Suddenly I’m just an air-headed pretty boy who will flutter my eyelashes at any beautiful woman who comes past.”

Brienne huffed before she replied. “I’m not saying that…”

“Well what are you saying?” he almost shouted, his hackles raised. When she did not have an answer, he continued with, “stop pretending you know me! Yes, I married that awful woman over there who ripped out my heart and trampled on it, but at least I put myself out there and embraced that opportunity. I’ve never hidden behind someone else’s name when on a date, creating this fake version of myself in the hope that it might get someone to like me. I’ve never been ashamed to be me.”

Brienne could feel her cheeks reddening as he fixed her with an accusatory look. “Don’t presume to know why I did that…” she yelled back, trying to justify her shouting to herself by thinking the music was loud, when in fact she was just angry at him for picking so close to her heart.

“Then don’t presume to know why I do the things I do either. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

“Perhaps not,” Brienne hollered back, “but we do get to choose who we make vows to, who we pledge ourselves to. Trying to hide behind empty romance is a futile waste of time. What is important is the bands of iron and steel that draw us together, not the first flames of lust. You should have known your marriage was doomed from the beginning because that’s all it ever was; fire. You were a stupid eighteen year old who fell for a pretty face, which was hiding darkness underneath. You thought with your dick, like all men do.”

_And let’s be honest, Jaime, that’s why you won’t fall for me._

He froze for a moment. “Is that what you think of me?” he said quietly.

She knew she'd gone too far. “Jaime… I…”

The flush in his cheeks was suddenly entirely the product of anger. “Who are you to judge me? Who are you to say I am a shallow idiot who only cares about looks? That I only think with my dick? Or that my marriage was always doomed, or that I wasted my time with romantic gestures? And who are you to barge into my life and say that Daenerys Targaryen, the blind date I was meant to have this evening, wasn’t going to be the love of my life?”

Brienne realised she had been too harsh on him. She had thought he would accept this criticism of Cersei as he clearly despised her, but she hadn’t anticipated that he would take it as a direct attack on him. “Jaime, please don’t get upset…”

“I’ll get upset if I want to,” he yelled. “You’ve given me enough things to be upset about this evening!”

“Jaime…”

“Just leave me alone. I’m not even on a date with you. I came out this evening for Daenerys, and she’s not here.”

And with that, he stormed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, yes, I did spend lots of time looking up weird sex positions on the internet! Please let me know what you think with comments or kudos :)
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne tries to make amends with Jaime...


	9. In the Gents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes to make amends with Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for coming back for this next chapter! Just a warning, it's a little bit more emotional this time, so you may want to wear your hard hats! Comments and kudos, as usual, make my heart sing!

Brienne closed her eyes as she pushed open the door of the men’s toilet; partly because she felt like this was one small step for woman, one giant leap for womankind, and partly because she was terrified about what she was going to see. “Sorry!” she said in a breezy voice to the two horrified looking men at the urinals. “I’m just looking for someone…”

All the cubicles were closed, so she assumed Jaime had gone to hide in one of them. “Jaime,” she called out tentatively. “Are you in here?”

“Go away,” she heard him sniff.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going to leave you like this.”

She went over to the first door and pushed it open, only to be greeted by the sight of an old man with a very long beard with his trousers round his ankles. “HEY!” he shouted when he saw her, desperately trying to push the door closed.

“Have you never heard of a lock?” she cried as she retreated swiftly. Having learnt her lesson, Brienne knocked when she reached the next cubicle. She was rewarded by the sound of the latch clicking open and found Jaime inside, sitting on the toilet, his head in his hands. Not making a sound, she went inside and closed the door behind her, making sure they were shut in tightly before she tried to find the words.

“I’m not crying,” he insisted the second it was just the two of them.

“I know,” she said gently. “It’s hay fever season.” With that, she knelt down in front of him, so their eyes were level. Tenderly, she removed both his hand and his prosthetic from his face so she could see him properly. His eyes were a little red.

“What do you want?” he asked sullenly, looking anywhere but directly at her.

“I’m here to say I’m sorry,” she replied, shuffling towards him. At that, he lifted his eyes to look at her. “That was an utterly shitty and awful thing for me to say and if I could, I would take it back, because I don’t think it. You are not a pretty boy who only thinks with his dick, and the fact I said it says much more about my issues than it does about you.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes; he clearly hadn’t been expecting that. “Why did you say it if you don’t think it?”

Brienne tried to smile at him, but the fact she had to begin rummaging around in the depths of her own heart to even attempt to explain made her sad. “To be honest, I’m not very good with this whole relationships and romance thing. In fact, I’m fucking awful. My lack of success has made me a bitter old cynic, and for that reason I was rude to you about your genuine attempts to show someone that you loved them. I’m sorry for that.” She took a breath, making sure she kept her composure. “My cynicism is also part of the reason I was so willing to be Daenerys, I suppose. Although I only spoke to her for a few minutes it was very clear that the real Daenerys Targaryen is one of life’s hopeless romantics, so some stupid part of me wished she would be better at wooing you than me.”

He looked a little confused. “What?”

“You should have had her tonight,” she said sadly. “She really is beautiful; she has long blonde hair, she’s petite and delicate, and has almost purple eyes – to be honest she might be a mutant because it didn’t look natural.” He let out a breath that echoed a laugh, but even so she continued with her attempt at apologising. “But instead you got Brienne Tarth who can’t say what she thinks without coming across as a grumpy judgemental bitch.”

“That’s being a little harsh on yourself,” he said gently, but she shook her head.

“No it’s not. I was really rude to you, even though what I was _trying _to tell you back out there is that I think your ex was really horrible to you and it took it you a long time to see it, perhaps because you were clouded by the romance of it all. Even so, you deserve better; better than someone cheating on you, better than someone zoning of out of your marriage, and definitely better than someone pretending to be your blind date and not telling you the truth about it until you caught her in the toilets with her stalker.”

To her surprise, that made Jaime properly laugh. “We were getting on quite well up to that point.”

“Yeah,” smiled Brienne, feeling her heart lighten somewhat. “You seemed to like Daenerys.”

At the mention of that name in conjunction with their date, Jaime’s brown furrowed. “Why didn’t you just tell me who you really were? There were opportunities – at the bar, at the bowling alley – it would have been nice to hear it from you.”

Brienne let out a rueful breath. “Daenerys was doing so well… and Brienne Tarth _never _does well. She goes on dates and gets licked on the nose.”

“Licked on the nose?” he said, a laugh lingering behind his words.

“I’m not kidding, it genuinely happened.”

For the first time since she entered the cubicle, he let out a smile that showed his dimples. “That’s what I liked about you; you know? Your sense of humour. I have no idea if you really got licked on the nose, or if all those sex positions you listed are real or not, or if the plot of _Zombie Horror Hordes _really involves a man getting his guts eaten, but the way you said it all… kind of charmed me.”

A bubble of warmth began to rise in her belly as he spoke. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “And if you’d have casually mentioned that you were really Brienne Tarth and made it into one of your more mad stories, I’d have totally been there for the ride. I thought we clicked from the very beginning…” He paused before his voice mellowed into something tender. “Was it really easier to attempt to kiss Tormund in exchange for his silence rather than just telling me the truth?”

The soft expression he was wearing was so delicate that it caused tears to prick at the back of her eyes. “Of course it was. Men like you don’t go out with women like me, Jaime, and I thought that the only thing keeping you there was the fact you thought I was Daenerys.”

“Men like me and women like you?” Jaime asked softly, “what does that even mean?”

Brienne gave him a mild disbelieving look. “Men like you have millions of followers on _Instagram _and have insured their hair for five thousand pounds. Women like me look they’ve been slowly run over by a steam-roller.”

He returned her disbelieving look with a disappointed one. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“It’s not me that said it. It was my ex-boyfriend, Hyle.” Now she was really trying to keep the tears at bay. “He was a total twat, but he still wasted no time in making me feel awful. He…” she paused for a moment, before composing herself. “When we would have sex, he’d always make sure it was from behind, or in some way where he didn’t have to look at my face. He said he hated the sight of my scar.”

Jaime looked disgusted. “What an arsehole.”

Brienne shrugged. “It’s no different from most men’s response to me. I’m nothing special to look at, I know that. Every man I have ever had anything remotely sexual with has reminded me they’d rather see the back of my head than my face.”

“Well most men are wrong,” insisted Jaime. “If we made love I’d want to look into your eyes, because they are really quite astonishing.”

It was the most romantic and erotic thing that anyone had ever said to her in her entire life, and it took her breath away. A few moments passed before she had recovered herself enough to reply. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’ve come here to make _you _feel better, not the other way around.”

“I’m not lying,” he maintained. “I’d want to look into your eyes.”

His utter sincerity led her to reach out and cup his face in her hands. She expected him to flinch away but to her surprise, he didn’t. Brienne had spent the whole evening imagining what it would be like to sleep with him, but now she knew there was only one incontrovertible truth. “I’d want to look into your eyes too. Your eyes are soul-piercing. I have no idea how Cersei ever managed to look away, let alone leave you.”

She had expected him to flower at the compliment, just like she had done at his, but instead his shining sincerity was replaced by an underlying sadness that bubbled to the surface. He took her hands from his face. “Quite easily, I think,” he said quietly. “I thought the problems first started when I came back from a tour in Afghanistan four years ago. According to Cersei, losing your hand after your vehicle drove over an IED is not a good enough reason to be depressed. I’d just been discharged from the army on medical grounds and I came home to my wife, hoping for a bit of sympathy, a bit of comfort, but instead she refused to touch me while I had my stump uncovered, made me feel less of a man because somehow I ‘let it’ happen. The second it had healed, she got me this prosthetic.” He held his arm up. “There were other choices; ones that could be moved into different positions depending on what you were doing, ones where you could make the fingers move with a little motor. She wanted this one, though, because it looked the most lifelike… and I wanted to make her happy.”

“Oh, Jaime…” said Brienne, the words having escaped her without realising it. Trying to be comforting, she put her hands on his knees, and once more he did not push her away.

“I tried to make it right; I accepted the hand she wanted, and I got a therapist. I even put my plans for the personal training business on hold. I had wanted my own experience of recovering from losing my hand to help others who had gone through similar things, so I thought I could focus my business towards amputees…”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

His expression darkened. “She didn’t think so. She just thought it was advertising the fact that I was a cripple, that I was no longer a proper man.”

_What an utter cow, _thought Brienne furiously.

“Of course you are a proper man,” she said, squeezing his knees. “When I first saw you, I was hit by this total wave of…” She trailed off, not wanting to sully this moment with her dirtiest thoughts. “Well… it doesn’t matter. Just don’t ever let her make you think otherwise, okay.”

“I’ll try,” he promised, his voice straining, “but that wasn’t the only way she emasculated me. While I was trying to make things better, she was busy fucking any man she could get hold of in our bed. I feel sorry for Euron in a weird way, because I know he is not the only one.”

“Well that’s his problem now. You will be divorced on Tuesday. You will be free of her.”

He shook his head. “I won’t.”

“Why not?” she asked gently. “If you want to be free of her, you can be.”

The sigh he let out seemed to come from so deep within him that it made Brienne shiver. “She’s my step-sister.”

Brienne did not know what to do with that truth for a moment, so she just stared at him. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “My big secret is not that I’m Batman, but when my dad married her mum when I was fifteen, I decided the best thing to do was not to try and cultivate a brother-sister relationship with Cersei, but to fuck her instead. That’s why we got married at the Tarly’s chateau; because my dad was so disgusted, he couldn’t even abide us being in the same country as him. You said I was blinded by her looks, but I think you were wrong. I married her in the first place to piss off my dad, and then I think I kept it going as a point of principle. As she was the one who initiated the divorce, she’s been welcomed back with open arms, yet I’m still held at a distance. The only family member who treats me with any warmth is Tyrion.”

“Jaime…” she said, trying to be comforting.

It seemed he didn’t want that from her, however, as he tried to push her hands off him, but she held on. “What are you doing?” he asked, “aren’t you disgusted with me? An incestuous cripple?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “You said so yourself, who am I to judge you? It’s not as if she is your flesh and blood sister. And don’t call yourself a cripple. It’s an ugly word, and you are anything but ugly.”

“It is ugly,” he insisted. “I _am _ugly…”

“You couldn’t be ugly if you tried,” scoffed Brienne, reaching out for his prosthetic. He attempted to pull away, but she gave him a reproachful look, which caused him to hold out his arm before her. Gently, she rolled back his sleeve so she could see the point where flesh met artificial material. Running her fingers along it, he let her touch him, only trying to draw away when she crooked her fingers behind the edge of the prosthetic.

“You don’t want…” he began.

“I _do _want,” she asserted, “I’ve shown you my scar, so you’ve got to show me yours.” Once she had a nod of acquiescence from him, she carefully removed the prosthetic and set it down on his lap. She could tell by the expression on his face that he was expecting her to recoil, to back out the cubicle, return to the bar and then run down the road screaming. In spite of his fears, Brienne didn’t do that; instead, she continued to touch him. He clearly hadn’t anticipated it, because, as her fingers ghosted his skin, he flinched. Once she kept her hands on him past his immediate objections, he relaxed into it.

“Do you know what I see?” she said.

“What?”

“I see an arm,” she began, running her palm along the flat underside of his forearm. “It’s got a blue vein running underneath the skin just like mine has. You’ve got a few freckles; not as many as me, but I can see them.” As she brought both hands over his stump, she looked up into his eyes. “And then there is a scar that shows where your hand once was. It’s much more dramatic that mine, but like my scar, it is part of your history, part of your story. You can’t change it, so you might as well just accept it for what it is. It’s not beautiful, it’s not ugly, it just _is. _It’s part of you and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you don’t want to wear that prosthetic, then don’t. You don’t owe Cersei or anyone else anything, especially not eternally looking perfect.”

Jaime gazed at her like she had just announced a new gospel, like he was seeing a prophet on a mountain for the first time, like she had unveiled a revelation about the end of days. Brienne had been looked at in many ways in the past by many different people, but never how Jaime was looking at her now. So used to being invisible or unwanted, she did not know how to cope with his wide-eyed wonder. Searching for words, for something to say that could match the beauty and tenderness of his expression, she found herself reduced to silence, so was slightly relieved when he said, “how did you get your scar?”

She tried to drop her gaze to the floor, but she found him using his free hand to tilt her chin back up to look at him. Such gentleness needed an answer. “It was when I was at university, during my first term. Everyone else was getting boyfriends and fucking for the first time, and I thought that’s what I should be doing too. This guy in my flat asked me out one night and, as everyone else was starting to pair off, I thought I’d go for it and see what happened. Biggest mistake of my fucking life. We went to the Uni nightclub and he was all over me. He tried to get me drunk but I wasn’t having any of it. Eventually, he was weirding me out so much that I left. I was so stupid because I took this short cut behind the nightclub that went down this dark alley, and he followed me. He started claiming I owed him sex because we had gone out, and then…” She couldn’t quite bring herself to finish.

“He tried to take it,” supplied Jaime, his voice quiet.

Brienne nodded, even as she felt the tight claws of panic grasping at her chest. “I don’t know how, but he managed to get me down on the floor. I was trying to fight him off – hitting him, kicking him, doing everything I could – but in an effort to stop me attacking him, he sunk his teeth into my cheek and wouldn’t stop biting.”

“Fuck…” said Jaime, the wonder in his eyes now replaced by dawning horror. “How did you escape?”

“To be honest, I don’t really remember. I think I’ve blacked a lot of it out. The next thing I knew I was in hospital with everyone crowded around me and Sansa had reported him to the police. I try not to think about it too much. Before him, I honestly believed that even though I was big and ugly, there would somebody out there that would see past all that and like me for me. By biting me, he just permanently marked me with a reminder of how I am worth nothing, by the fact that because I am ugly, he felt I owed him something and when I didn’t give it to him, he scarred me for it.”

Jaime shook his head. “You are not worth nothing,” he insisted, impassioned. “You know, you are the only person in four fucking years who has talked to me like I’m not some sad, pathetic, broken _thing _that needs to be mended. You are worth a thousand of that bastard who attacked you, or of your ex, or of someone like Cersei who is cruel because she can be; a thousand and one, a million and one.” In his enthusiasm to convey his sentiment, he lifted his right hand in order to cup her scarred cheek, before suddenly remembering he had no hand. Sensing he was about to flinch away from her, Brienne drew up her own hand and placed it on top of his stump, rubbing the underside of his wrist with her thumb.

“Don’t pull away,” she begged. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with _you,_” he said, drawing closer to her, resting his forehead against hers. The sudden intimacy and closeness made her smile, at which he joked, “what a pair of mental cases we are.”

“We are not mental cases,” she replied earnestly. “Maybe we are just clinging on to the people we once were, defined by people we once let inside. In your case it is quite clear that Cersei has done you wrong, but you can stop being the person she made you. You are an emotional jigsaw at the moment, but you are going to piece yourself back together; you just start with the corners and look for the blue bits.”

Even though they were so close, and Brienne could feel his hot breath on her skin, he was still looking at her as if she could give him the answer to the meaning of life. “Where do I find these blue bits?” She didn’t know if she was strong enough to answer him with words, but lifting her free hand, she began to trace his jaw with her fingers.

_Me, Jaime, _she thought. _Me._

When Brienne was an inch away from Jaime’s kiss, a voice ricocheted around the little space. “It took me five years to get over my ex.” Both Jaime and Brienne looked up in the direction of the sound at the same time, only to find a very hairy man leaning over the toilet cubicle, a concerned look on his face. “Lynesse left me for a fat old businessman called Tregar Ormollen when I couldn’t afford to buy her enough expensive handbags. In the early days, the only thing that made me feel any better was burning her clothes… twice.”

Jaime’s expression was slightly confused. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“Jorah Mormont,” he said, reaching over so he could shake Jaime and Brienne’s hands in turn. “I recommend fire and Jungian therapy. It worked wonders for me.”

“Thanks,” chuckled Brienne as Jorah disappeared back into his own cubicle. Brienne had no idea what Jungian therapy was, but she briefly considered giving it a go. Turning back to Jaime, she found he was smiling.

“Well,” he said, “I think I’ve had enough of dealing with my hay fever in a toilet.”

Brienne snorted, “yes, so do I.”

There was a short silence before Jaime managed to find the words. “So, Brienne, what do you say about going back into the bar and carrying on with our date?”

Brienne felt herself blushing even as she spoke, “what? You want to go on a date with _me? _Not with Daenerys, or your fake firefighter girlfriend?”

“No,” he beamed. “I want Brienne Tarth. To be honest, I just want to carry on with the date we’ve clearly been on all evening."

Suppressing the part of her that wanted to scream with joy, she went for a meek, “that sounds great.”

“Good,” he grinned, getting to his feet, picking up his prosthetic as he went. Brienne copied him, having no luck hiding her giddy smile. When he saw her expression, he said, “why don’t we go and have another dance? Let’s hope they’ve put something else on other than the _Macarena._”

She wanted to agree more than anything but found herself attempting to bargain with him. “On one condition.”

“What?”

Reaching out, she took his prosthetic from him. Once it was in her hands, she said, “we go and put this in your bag and we just dance together, scars and all.”

He looked momentarily concerned, so she brushed his cheek in a way she hoped he found comforting. The moment of contact made him acquiesce. “Okay then. Let’s go and dance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "you are an emotional jigsaw... you just have to find the blue bits" line is straight from Man Up, and is the entire reason I decided to try adapting this story for Jaime and Brienne, so I hope you enjoyed it. As ever, comments and kudos are great, so keep them coming!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Brienne dance...


	10. Mysterious Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne dance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for another chapter! I hope you enjoy this one; this scene doesn't really have a direct parallel in "Man Up", I just wanted to create a small reference with the other work in this anthology series "A Big Cop in a Small Town". If you like it (or if you didn't) please leave comments and kudos!

Brienne’s heart was in her throat as she left the men’s toilets with Jaime, her hand in his. She literally could not believe what was happening. He hadn’t run away when she had shown him her heart and soul; he was still here, he wanted to date her, and he wanted to dance with her. It was nearly impossible imagine, and yet apparently it was all real.

_Maybe I wasn’t so wrong earlier, _she thought hopefully. _Maybe I don’t need any more suitors after today, because Jaime is the one._

Wanting to put his prosthetic away, they returned to their bags which were tucked underneath their table. Cersei and Fuck off Euron were still sitting there, whispering and conspiring together. Not planning to talk to them, Brienne carefully put Jaime’s prosthetic in his bag before signalling to him to go to the dancefloor. Cersei was having none of that.

“Where have you two been? 69ing in the toilets I expect.”

Brienne decided to cut Cersei off, not wanting Jaime to get drawn into things, by saying, “I’m just going to have a sip of my beer first.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said, taking a glug of his own.

Clearly not liking being ignored, Cersei put her arm around Fuck off Euron once more, before looking at Jaime intensely, almost snarling. “What’s up with you, Jaime? You look like you’ve been crying.”

He slammed his beer down with a little more force than necessary as he turned to his ex-wife, before slipping his arm round Brienne’s waist. “Actually, I _was _crying…” Although Jaime seemed totally buoyed up by their emotionally cathartic moment in the bathroom, Brienne did not think it was wise for Cersei to know about it, so she interrupted him.

“With _laughter,_” she grinned. Turning to Fuck off Euron, Brienne said, “have you ever tried doing it in a cubicle that small? I think I left my knickers in there!” Putting on a hysterical fake laugh, Brienne drew Jaime close enough that she could speak quietly into his ear. “She does not need to know the real reason for your tears.”

Brienne expected Jaime to say something touching – perhaps a thanks – but instead his tone was teasing. “Did you want to leave your knickers in there?”

“Focus!” Brienne ordered him as she pulled away, taking his hand. “Come on then, let’s go and dance.”

Just as Jaime let himself be led away, Cersei got to her feet. “Euron,” she said loudly. “We’re going to dance too.”

“Are we?” complained Fuck off Euron.

“Yes,” snapped Cersei. “Put down your damn beer and get up.”

Brienne half expected Jaime to turn around and react to that, but he just smiled at her instead. “The DJ has started with the slow dances. I’m sorry if I step on your feet.”

“That’s okay, I’m not the world’s best dancer either.”

Brienne didn’t know the song that was playing when they finally got to the dancefloor, but she didn’t really care, as it gave her the opportunity to put her arms round Jaime’s neck, while he placed his left hand on her waist. Noticing his right arm was hanging by his side, Brienne reached down to make sure his stump was on her other hip. Even as he went the colour of a tomato, Brienne just smiled at him. Out of the corner of her eye, Brienne could see Cersei draping herself all over Fuck off Euron, grinding up against him even when the music didn’t call for it. To Brienne’s blessed relief, however, Jaime did not seem to care. His eyes were only for her.

“So,” he said gently, as they started to sway to the music, “as you clearly do not work with my brother at the publishing house…”

“What makes you say that?” she teased.

Jaime grinned mockingly. “It’s the fact you referred to Tyrion as _the tall guy_. He’s a dwarf.”

Brienne spluttered with laughter. “What? You’ve got to be joking.”

“Nope,” replied Jaime. “He’s literally four foot tall.” As she tried to suppress her laughter, Jaime’s smile only got bigger. “Are you laughing at my brother’s dwarfism?”

“No!” she insisted, “it’s just I can’t believe I said that, and you still thought I was Daenerys!”

He smirked as he said, “maybe I was just in a lust filled daze.”

“Of course,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, before giving him a fake stern look. “But let’s be serious. What did you want to ask me, Jaime?”

“If you don’t work at the publishing house with my brother, where do you work?”

She was half way through telling him about the IT systems of the eco-friendly water bottle company when Cersei and Fuck off Euron span past. Cersei’s green eyes were trained on Jaime, but to Brienne’s relief he didn’t seem to notice; he was too busy asking questions about water waste in Britain’s plumbing system. Cersei tried for the rest of the song to get his attention, but when it failed, she was just reduced to positioning Fuck off Euron in hold and shooting daggers at them both.

“Our next song this evening,” came the gentle voice of the DJ, “is Ed Sheeran’s _Thinking Out Loud, _so grab that special someone and hold them tight.”

It was clear from Jaime’s expression that he wasn’t quite expecting Brienne to start laughing at that announcement, so he asked, “what is it?”

“Oh, nothing major” smiled Brienne, lost in memory. “A couple of years ago there was a local talent show with a rather hefty amount of prize money. Sansa got it into her head that we should enter as a duo doing the dance to this song from the music video. She’s my best friend, I couldn’t say no, so I agreed. The only problem was that I’m taller than Sansa, so in this scenario I had to be Ed Sheeran, even though she’s the ginger. It’s one of my life’s greatest achievements I came twenty third out of twenty four dancing the man’s part of _Thinking Out Loud _at Clapham Council’s 2018 Talent Show.”

To her surprise, Jaime did not laugh at her. He just opened his mouth and went a little pale. “What is it?” she asked. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just I know the girl’s part.”

“What?” she gasped, not quite believing him. “Why?”

He smiled before saying, “when my old squaddie mate Addam got married, him and his missus decided they wanted to do the dance from the video as their first dance at their wedding. Only problem was, he was out on deployment in Afghanistan and wasn’t getting back to the UK until the day before the ceremony. So, he needed someone to practice with and I did him a favour by learning the girl’s part. I mean, we didn’t do all the ridiculous lifts or anything, but I know most of it.”

Weirdly, neither of them even had to ask when the first strains of the song came on. They just started dancing. At first, it was alright because it just required walking very slowly and staring dramatically into each other’s eyes, only pausing to hold each other’s hand, or for Jaime to tilt her chin to look at him. There was no need to speak; they knew the moves. She would push him away then pull him close, just as the early stages of the dance required, while he pressed his stump to her chest to emphasise the word _heart. _Later on the moves started getting more complicated and Jaime had to start flicking his legs around which, in the video, looked artistic and graceful, but he somehow made it look like he was having a fit. It made Brienne laugh so much that she was still shaking when she had to train her fingers down his arm and bury her face in his neck. Her several hiccupping breaths tickled him and he started chuckling too. Brienne wasn’t sure quite how it happened, but they were caught together in some strange place between joking and earnestness. It just felt right.

At the point where Brienne was expected to pick Jaime up and whirl him round her head like a majorette’s baton, they instead stayed on their feet and span each other around as if they were kids at a playground. It meant that when they drew close again and he stroked her cheek, he was smiling at her and she felt like her heart would burst with joy. When the dance got too difficult, or required Jaime to have both hands, Brienne would just pull him to her and sway in time to the music. It required no words, just the strength of her arms and the heat of her body against his to tell him what to do. To be honest, those were her favourite moments.

_People fall in love in mysterious ways_

_Maybe just the touch of a hand._

For the bit where she was meant to be lying on the floor and he was meant to be jumping all over her, they both laid down looking at each other, randomly kicking their legs in the air. Jaime let out a snort at that, which had Brienne giggling once more. As their laughter got louder, their antics started to attract attention, so much so that a little circle had been created around them on the dancefloor. At first, Brienne thought people were mocking them, but when she found Jaime gently leading her in the parts of the dance that involved the easier steps, she realised that their audience were genuinely moved by the simplicity of the dance. The effect was so profound, in fact, that Cersei and Fuck off Euron had retreated from the dancefloor back to the table in order to plot and plan over the beers. Jaime didn’t notice. Brienne didn’t care.

Once they got two thirds of the way through the dance, Brienne forgot her steps, tripping slightly on Jaime’s feet. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s fine,” he murmured with a lilting smile, just pulling her close and putting his hand and stump on her face. She replied likewise, with both hands on his cheeks. They stayed that way, just swaying in time with the music, looking into each other’s eyes, until the last few bars. At that point, they remembered the official routine and, holding hands, they started to jump backwards and forwards, towards and away from each other. After that, they laid down on the floor together and he rolled over to face her, breathing heavily. Brienne wondered whether they had both accidentally got drunk or high at some point in the evening, or whether the dance was just the product of a weird intimacy brought about by their conversation in the bathroom, which was deeper than any she had ever had before. Not wanting to question it, not wanting to think, she just let the dance carry on, let herself remain in his arms, let herself just be.

Brienne had only known Jaime a few hours, yet she knew she had feelings for him that stretched beyond the lightning bolt of lust she had experienced when she first saw him. What these feelings were, she did not know – she did not have a name for them – but she knew she wanted to hold onto them tightly, whatever they were. He would have to prise them from her fingers himself if she was ever to relinquish them.

As the other patrons of the bar began to cheer and clap at the conclusion of the dance and the DJ shouted their praises, Brienne just looked into his eyes and found him gazing back. She had never had a date like this before. Normally, they were filled with anxiety, awkwardness, and worry about whether the man who was sitting across the table would be outright rude to her or just silently hostile. Brienne did not know what to do with this sudden nearness, both physical and emotional, that had quickly flowered between her and Jaime in a few short hours. It seemed he didn’t either, as he just smiled at her.

So, lost for words, she just decided to keep looking into his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! It was fun to write! As ever, comments and kudos make me smile!
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne checks the time...


	11. Firefighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne realises what time it is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you enjoy this chapter - I love this bit in the film, so I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Once again, please leave comments and kudos. It's great to know how I'm doing, and helps me improve my writing!

Brienne wasn’t quite sure how long she had been staring into Jaime’s eyes; she wouldn’t have been too surprised to discover that the archaeologists from the Natural History Museum had dug up their skeletons from the ruins of _The Red Keep _thousands of years in the future, still staring at each other. Equally, it could have been half a second.

_He is so wonderful._

Suddenly, she became conscious of the fact she was lying on the sticky floor of a medium sized bar on the South Bank.

“Jaime,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“We’re lying on the floor.”

“We are,” he conceded, making no attempt to move.

“Shouldn’t we get up?”

“You can if you want,” he said gently, moving imperceptibly closer to her. “I’m fine just here.”

It was eventually the cheering and laughter of the other drunken patrons of the bar that roused her from her dreamlike state where she saw Jaime, only Jaime, and no one else. The DJ’s voice boomed out, “everyone give a round of applause to our lovely couple!” People were soon helping her to her feet, clapping her on the back, offering to buy her drinks, but all she could see was Jaime and his big green eyes. After they managed to escape the other dancers, she felt his hand grasp hers and he seemed to be staring right into her and through her. Without saying another word, he pulled her back in the direction of the bar, where he propped himself up, his eyes not leaving hers.

Bronn appeared. “Can I get you two a drink?” That finally broke the spell. Brienne turned to face him, suddenly remembering there were more than two people in the entire world.

_This is ridiculous, _she thought. _I need some air… I need…_

“I need a piss,” she announced, and that made Jaime laugh.

“Okay,” he grinned, “I’ll be waiting.”

Glowing bright red, she eventually managed to pull herself away from Jaime to go back to the table under which their bags were stored and picked up her own. Thankfully, Cersei and Fuck off Euron were nowhere to be seen. Making her way to the toilets, Brienne went about cleaning herself up, touching up her make-up, digging out a pack of mints and chewing on one nervously.

_I’m losing my fucking mind, but I don’t care… Jaime, Jaime, Jaime._

She had just repacked her things and gone back into the bar to return to Jaime, when her bag vibrated.

_Oh, _she thought, _I own a phone._

It took her a while to find it under her crumpled clothes, the copy of _Six Million People and You _and her notebook, so when she eventually got her hands on it, she had missed the call. Taking a closer look, she realised she had ignored hundreds of texts and calls from Sansa all evening, including the one just gone. A sudden wave of guilt washed over, so she quickly called her friend back, hoping she wouldn’t go nuclear.

“Hi, I…”

“OH MY GOD YOU ARE ALIVE!” screeched Sansa.

“Why would I not be alive?” asked Brienne confusedly.

“Because you’ve been missing for hours," replied Sansa, her voice underpinned by panic. _"_You originally said you’d be here at 6.45, and it’s now… 10.37 to be precise.”

“No it’s not…” said Brienne disbelievingly. It couldn’t have been that long. The last time she checked had been back at the bowling alley and it had been eight something then. Surely time could not have flown this quickly?

“Yes, it is!” insisted Sansa. “I thought you’d been murdered by a lunatic or something! I got so scared that I got Sandor to walk round the block looking for you, and Robb had to talk me out of calling the police. Where are you? Mum and Dad are worried, Arya’s AWOL, and because of that we’ve only just started the speeches, and Jon’s totally flopped, so we could do with another one.”

From her vantage just outside the toilet door, Brienne had a good view of Jaime, who was leaning up against the bar, running a hand through his golden hair, his tongue skirting his bottom lip. _Urgh. _Brienne knew that she now wanted to fuck this man senseless as well as have deep intellectual conversations into the night with him, before going for a second round. He was the whole damn package… and she’d noticed his package.

As she watched him, his phone rang, and he got it out of his pocket to answer it. It reminded her that she was also still on the phone.

“Brienne? Brienne? Are you still there?”

As she was pulled back to the present by the sound of her friend’s voice, Brienne knew she was going to have to come up with an answer. “I’m sorry Sansa, I’m going to have to bail.”

The silence was deafening. “What, but you said you would come?”

“I know,” said Brienne, feeling terribly guilty. “But what if I told you that I’ve met a guy who could turn out to be my goddamn soulmate under the clock at Waterloo Station, I pretended to be his blind date, now he actually knows it is me and somehow we’re on a _real _date. We’ve just had a really sexy, funny, intimate dance that scared off his terrifying ex, and now I want to marry him, have his babies, one day wheel him round in our Old People’s Home, and scatter his ashes in my garden.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’d tell you to bring him here,” said Sansa cheerfully, “kill two birds with one stone.”

Brienne blanched. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not? That way, you can say hi to my parents on their anniversary _and _spend the evening with Mr Right.”

“Are you sure?” asked Brienne tentatively.

“Yeah. Everyone has started drinking, so by the time you get here, no one would care.”

Brienne thought of taking Jaime to meet the Starks; it was almost the equivalent of taking him to meet her dad. Ned and Cat would welcome him with open arms, while Sansa would initially be distrustful because he made her so late, but she was sure Jaime could win her over in a moment. And besides, Brienne knew she wanted to embed him into her life more than anything. She could see it now; the Starks would put slushy music on and she could dance with Jaime in their lounge, and when it got too late to dance anymore she would take him home and push him down onto her bed and take his clothes off and ride him into oblivion while she looked into his eyes, and once they were finished she would never stop looking.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “I’ll ask him.”

“Great!” chirped Sansa. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“If we leave now it’ll take half an hour, but my god Sansa, this man is such a distraction I can’t promise anything. Give me an hour at least.”

Sansa outright laughed at this. “Are you okay? Are you sure you’ve not been taking any hard drugs or anything? Only a few hours ago you were telling me you had sworn off men forever.”

“Yeah, but that was before I met Jaime.”

“Jaime,” mused Sansa, “Jaime and Brienne.”

“That’s what I’m going for. Hopefully I won’t be too long.”

Brienne could hear Sansa’s affectionate laughter down the phone, but she did not rise to it. “Great! And make sure you have your speech prepared! We need a cracker, even at this late hour.”

“Of course,” replied Brienne, knowing her speech consisted of three bullet points and a hastily composed song. Maybe Jaime could help her finish it on the tube ride to Clapham. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” cooed Sansa as Brienne hung up.

Before returning to Jaime, Brienne went back to the table in order to pick up his bag. She wanted to make it as easy as possible for him to agree to come with her to the Stark’s party and getting waylaid by a bitchy ex-wife while finding his bag was not the way to go about it. So, taking Cersei’s absence as an opportunity, she hurriedly scooped it up before dashing back across the room towards him.

Jaime was just finishing on the phone as Brienne approached. “Okay Tyrion, yeah, I’ll chat later. See you.” There was something almost tense in his tone, but it dissolved when he put his phone away and looked up at her. “You’ve got my bag,” he said, stating the obvious.

“I’ve got your bag,” she parroted back at him. “I figured it was about time we got out of here.”

He bit his lip and she felt her heart beat faster. “Where do you propose we go?”

She didn’t have time to answer that, however, as at that precise moment, Cersei and Fuck off Euron hoved into view. Cersei’s expression was nothing less than venomous. Looking directly at Brienne, she spat, “I bet I could do more shots than you.”

Not quite knowing where this was coming from, Brienne replied, “yes. You probably could.”

“Let’s get some shots in then!” cheered Fuck off Euron, clapping his hands together.

“I don’t think so,” said Jaime, something aggressive in his tone, “we’re going to head off actually…”

“Nonsense,” said Euron, before turning to Bronn. “Can we have four shots of Scorpion please?”

As Fuck off Euron said it, Brienne drew Jaime close to her and said, “what the fuck is a Scorpion?”

“One of Bronn’s specialities,” replied Jaime darkly. “It’s basically toxic waste in a shot glass that gets set on fire. It’s best avoided.”

Noting Jaime muttering in Brienne’s ear, Cersei cocked one of her perfect eyebrows and let out a laugh. Glaring at Brienne, she hissed, “scared?”

“You wish,” replied Brienne as Bronn came over with the four burning shots on a silver tray. Even though she knew the best thing to do was to totally avoid this childish tit-for-tat with Cersei, the illogical part of Brienne’s brain wanted to stomp Jaime’s ex-wife into the ground, so in the end she picked up two burning shots and handed one to Jaime. In a moment, he had blown out the flames on his and she copied.

“Do you have a toast?” he asked.

Brienne thought about it. “What does it say in _Six Million People and You_?”

Jaime shrugged. “Cut me some slack. I’m a dyslexic, it took me ages to read one chapter.”

Grinning at him, she asked, “what was that chapter called?”

He thought about it and then said, “_Fuck the Past._”

Brienne leant forward to clink her shot glass against his. “Let’s _Fuck the Past _then.”

“_Fuck the Past,_” he agreed, before knocking back his shot.

Brienne raised her own shot to her lips to join in the toast but was suddenly overcome by the burning smell of the many different spirits Bronn had clearly mixed together to create his delightful concoction. It smelt so terrible, that Brienne knew she did not want to drink it, so while Jaime’s eyes were closed as he knocked back his own, she threw the contents of her shot glass over her shoulder.

Almost immediately, she heard a little scream. Turning around, she realised that she had thrown the shot straight into Fuck off Euron’s eyes. “Oh shit,” she began, “I’m sorry…” However, her apologies were soon swallowed by the ensuing chaos. As he reacted to the stinging pain in his eyes, Fuck off Euron staggered back, swinging his arms out to make sure he did not fall over. Unfortunately, during this effort, he knocked his arm into the two Scorpions that were still on the bar and his sleeve went up in flames in a second.

“Oh my god!” murmured Brienne in shock, as the mini-fire got bigger and bigger.

“FIRE!” shouted Cersei, “FIRE! SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!” Brienne turned to Jaime in her panic, only to see him wearing the same shocked expression as her. The only person who seemed to take any sort of initiative at all was Bronn, who came charging along the bar armed with a fire extinguisher, holding it out in front of him.

“Anybody?” he said desperately, trying to shove it at somebody else other than himself.

“She’s a firewoman!” yelled Cersei, pointing at Brienne. “Tell her to put the fucking fire out!” Brienne tried to object, but then realised that was exactly what she had told Cersei when she and Jaime had been making up ridiculous sex stories. Not wasting a moment, Bronn chucked the fire extinguisher at her.

_Come on Brienne, _she thought madly. _In this reality you are on a date with Jaime Lannister. Why can’t you also be a firefighter?_

Grabbing the funnel, she went to direct it at Fuck off Euron, but when she pressed down on the button to release the foam, she found the flow was so strong that her hand was knocked out of her intended direction and she instead ended up dousing Cersei, meaning Jaime’s ex-wife suddenly looked like the Abominable Snowman.

“AHHHHH!!!” screamed Brienne, swinging her whole body around to make sure the funnel was pointed back at Fuck off Euron. Once it was, he too got the Christmas frosting treatment, with the added bonus that the fire on his sleeve was put out. Once the orange flickers died down, Brienne turned the fire extinguisher off, before taking a deep gulp of air. Expecting a horrified silence to start stretching before them all, she tried not to look at Cersei and Fuck off Euron, who were both staring at their own ruined clothes.

To her surprise, however, instead of silence, she was treated to the sound of Jaime’s hysterical laughter. She turned to look at him to find him doubled over, clutching his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut in the hilarity of the moment, desperately gasping for air. Brienne had a feeling he had not laughed like that in a long time, and at the sight of the utter joy of it, she found herself guffawing too.

“You’ll pay for this!” spat Cersei, grabbing Fuck off Euron’s arm, but Brienne didn’t care, she was too busy watching Jaime laugh. Handing the fire extinguisher back to Bronn, Brienne went over to Jaime and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him shaking beneath her fingers. As Cersei and Fuck off Euron stormed off, he lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes, and she felt like she had been hit by a bolt of lightning at the sight of his sheer happiness.

“That… was… the… best… thing… I’ve… ever… seen,” he gasped, his words struggling to come out against the sheer weight of his laughter. When he eventually managed to stand upright, he pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek (which made her burn as brightly as a firework), before he continued to chuckle into her ear. “Fuck the Past indeed.”

“Fuck the Past,” she agreed, laughing, as she drew her arms around his waist.

_Is this what it’s meant to be like? _she thought. _Being with someone? Because this is just so easy._

Through his laughter, Jaime grinned at her, “come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Yes,” she agreed, knowing she’d go with him anywhere he asked.

_Once we’ve stopped laughing, I’ll tell him about all about the Stark’s party… and maybe then ask him to marry me._

And with that, they left _The Red Keep _far behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... FIRE. I hope you enjoyed that! Please consider leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne works up the courage to ask Jaime to the Stark's party...


	12. Waterloo Station, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tries to summon up the courage to ask Jaime to come to the Stark's party with her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to yet another chapter! It's amazing what time off work can do for one's fic writing abilities! Please leave comments and kudos as ever; they make me super happy :)

Brienne was surprised to find that Jaime let her lead him out of the bar and all the way to Waterloo Station, because he was still laughing at the mental image of Brienne dousing Cersei and Fuck off Euron with the fire extinguisher.

“Her face, _her face!” _chuckled Jaime as Brienne had to try and keep him upright with her arm because he was laughing too much. “Oh, I’ve never seen something so brilliant in all my life. Thank you so much, Brienne. I feel thoroughly avenged.”

“Vengeance is my middle name,” she grinned as they went up the steps into the train station. “Well, actually, it’s Louise… but Vengeance also suits.”

Once they were in the main part of the station, almost exactly under the big clock, did Jaime stop laughing and, noticing where they were, he became suddenly awkward. “Why have you brought me here?” he asked.

Brienne smiled at him and hooked her arm around his. “So, you know I mentioned I had to write an anniversary party speech?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” she began, taking a deep breath. “While I was in the toilet, I got a call from a very panicked Sansa who reminded me that I was meant to be at her parents’ anniversary party several hours ago. I apologised for getting _distracted, _but said I’d go and do the speech…” Brienne tried to carry on and say _so, do you want to come with me?_ but Jaime interrupted.

“Oh,” he said, his smile dropping a little, before he managed to compose himself. “That probably works out well then.”

She was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, while you were in the toilet, I got a phone call too,” he said, getting his phone out his pocket. “It was from my brother Tyrion. He was totally apoplectic with me about standing Daenerys up, and says he needs us to go on this date to test _Six Billion People and You _out.” Just then, his phone lit up. “Ah. He’s just text me again. Apparently, Daenerys is willing to meet me at some cocktail bar north of the river in half an hour. I do really owe my brother a favour, and it will really help out the author of the book…”

Jaime looked up at her with his big green eyes, and Brienne tried to shake off the sinking feeling in her stomach by turning it into a joke. “Daenerys still wants to meet you, even after you stood her up? Is she some kind of desperate loser or something?”

Jaime let out a small laugh. “Well technically _you _stood her up. I’m just a poor innocent kidnap victim. Tyrion’s told her as much.” Brienne could not smile at that. Not only was Jaime seriously thinking about going to meet Daenerys, he was also letting Tyrion tell people that she was some kind of crazed loser who was trying her luck with men way out of her league. It was as if he had suddenly got amnesia and forgotten half the feelings of the night they had shared.

When Brienne did not say anything, Jaime smiled at her teasingly. “So, what do you say?” he asked. “Is it boy meets girl, or boy doesn’t meet girl?”

_Boy has already met girl, _said the sad, lonely part of Brienne’s heart who knew how this game went, _he just can’t see it because she’s got an ugly scar on her face._

“Why are you asking me?” said Brienne, dropping his arm as she narrowed her eyes. If he wanted to go and meet Daenerys so desperately, why was he dragging her into this?

Jaime laughed. “I thought it would be obvious. You tell me your opinion on the subject, which makes you sound like a grumpy judgemental bitch – your words not mine – and then I fight back, we bicker about it for a bit, and then we come to the correct conclusion.”

Trying to push aside the desire to hit him for calling her a grumpy judgemental bitch, she clung onto to the most telling words in that statement: _and then I fight back. _Jaime must know that Brienne would tell him to come to the anniversary party with her and fuck Daenerys Targaryen, but he seemed to want to fight against this suggestion.

_He still wants her_, came the sudden realisation, like the crash of a wave on the shore. _He still wants the fantasy of the twenty-four year old triathlete instead of me, the living breathing woman who poured my heart and soul out to him tonight, who danced with him, who set his ex’s boyfriend on fire. None of that matters at all, because I am not the dream._

“I’m going to go,” said Brienne, walking away from him and turning in the direction to the entrance of the tube. She only got a few steps away before he caught up.

“Woah! Wait a second!” he cried as he drew level with her. “All evening you’ve been full of opinions on what I should be doing with my life and now you’ve got nothing to say?”

Brienne shook her head. “What do you want from me, Jaime? Do you want my permission? Do you want me to hold you to some sort of standard? Because you are an adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to go on dates with!”

“That’s not what…”

In her anger, Brienne stopped walking and turned to face him, trying not to think about how cute he looked when he was confused. Setting him a test, she said, “I want you to meet Daenerys.”

That was basic female doublespeak for _I don’t want you to meet Daenerys you fucking moron, _but Jaime was a man, so did not pick up on the subtleties. Instead he looked at her and furrowed his brow. “You do?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah, why not?” Brienne said, trying to sound casual even though she wanted nothing more than to break down into loud, noisy, ugly tears. “She’s a pretty twenty-four year old triathlete your brother told you was perfect for you. What possible reason could there be for you not to walk off and meet her _right this second?_”

_Me, Jaime, me! _shouted the mad, hopeful part of her brain that Brienne had been telling to shut up for the last ten years.

Jaime’s expression was unreadable, but perhaps he looked a little hurt. Brienne did not know what he had to be hurt about; it was him that was choosing to end their date like this. “And that wouldn’t bother you?” he asked.

Brienne shrugged. “It wouldn’t bother me one way or the other.” It was a total lie, but as he seemed so intent on going off with Daenerys, she at least wanted to keep her dignity. “If you think there is a chance she’s right for you, then _go._”

He looked down at the floor for a moment, before raising his lovely green eyes to gaze at her. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll go meet her then.”

If the rest of the conversation had made her feel like she was in some sort of freefall, that last statement felt like a gut punch. “Great,” she said, trying to sound cheerful, but she was sure her tone was somewhere more in the ballpark of beloved relative has just died_. _“Well. Have a good time.”

“Okay,” he said again, still looking at her with that cute confused expression.

Not wanting to really look at him anymore, Brienne began digging around in her bag. “As you are going to see Daenerys, could you please give her back her copy of _Six Billion People and You_?” she said, finally finding it at the bottom of her bag and holding it out in front of him. “I’d ask you to shove it up her arse, but I don’t think that will make a particularly good first impression.”

His mouth quirked, as if he was going to smile, before he said, “Tyrion says she’s already bought another one. That’s how I’m going to recognise her.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Well, of course she has,” she said, before putting the book back in her bag.

“I haven’t really read it, to be honest,” said Jaime, trying to make a joke. “I’ve been bigging up how much I read all evening. I barely did the blurb.”

Pretending to still be trying to place the book back in her bag, Brienne said, “well, maybe we both should have. It might have led to a better date.”

It had not been a terrible date at all, but Brienne was possessed by a desire to hurt him as he was so casually hurting her. When she looked back up at him, he wasn’t smiling. “So… that’s it then,” he said.

“Yep,” she replied, popping the “p”. If, by some miracle, he wanted to ask for her number, now was his chance, but he seemed to be taking no such initiative. To avoid a crushingly awkward silence, Brienne said, “I’m sorry for derailing your date, by the way. I don’t know if actually apologised for that…”

“I’m glad you did,” he said, suddenly. For a brief second, Brienne’s lonely wasted heart shone with excitement and hope, but then he continued. “Because otherwise I wouldn’t have a story about my crazy kidnapper to tell Daenerys.”

Bracing herself, Brienne replied, “well, I’ll probably use it in the future myself too. What’s funnier than revealing oneself as a mad kidnapper at dinner parties? It can be another one of my crazy tales.”

The corners of Jaime’s mouth turned upwards in an echo of a smile. “Well… it was nice to meet you, Brienne. Take care of yourself, and I hope you make a really great speech… although I wouldn’t sing them that song if I were you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jaime,” she said, her heart getting heavier and heavier by the second. “And thanks… I won’t.”

Lingering in his line of sight for too long, she was suddenly overtaken by the feeling of wanting to grab hold of him one last time in some crazy final attempt to get him to stay. Reaching out, she grasped his hand and shook it furiously, not quite being able to let go.

“Bye,” she said flatly, trying to wrench away, but she found he was still holding on. Using the fact that they were still connected, he pulled her towards him and placed a gentle kiss right on her scar. At the contact, a thousand mad, lovesick butterflies were suddenly let lose in her stomach, and she tried her utmost to suppress them.

“Bye,” he echoed, stepping back, letting go of her hand. He wasn’t quite looking at her.

Not able to take the sight of him anymore, Brienne began to dash off in the direction of the tube. Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest.

_Stop me, Jaime, please stop me. Don’t let me go… please._

She suddenly heard his voice. “I’ll Facebook you!”

Turning around, she found he hadn’t moved, and was wearing a kind of half smile which she couldn’t understand. “I’m not on Facebook,” she answered. “The Russians will get me.”

“Idiot,” he said.

“Idiot,” she replied.

Brienne permitted herself one last look at Jaime Lannister, drinking in the sight of him. He really was stunningly beautiful, perhaps even more so than when she first saw him, because now he had shared himself with her in a way no man had ever done before. Yet, apparently, that wasn’t enough. Letting that revelation sink in, she turned on her heel and headed towards the entrance to the tube. The parts of her that she had suppressed for so long, the bits of her that still believed in love and romance and songs and stories, were screaming at her to go back to him, get on her hands and knees and beg him not to go.

_It’s a waste of time_, she told herself. _Daenerys is waiting for him._

Once she crossed through the barriers and picked up her ticket, she permitted herself to look back at him, only to find that he had gone.

_So much for that, _she thought.

What had happened finally started to fully dawn on her when the voice over lady on the train announced. “The next station is Kennington. Please mind the gap when getting off the train at the next station.”

_I’m part of the montage at the beginning of the film, _Brienne thought with dread, _where the handsome protagonist goes on lots of weird dates before he meets the One in some quirky meet-cute in the opening third of the film. I’m the bunny boiler stalker who he makes jokes about with his friends years after the fact. Daenerys is the one he is going to marry and have babies with… not me._

_Never me._

It was only when the woman sitting next to her extended a pack of tissues to her that Brienne realised her cheeks were wet, and she had been crying. “Thank you,” she said meekly, taking one of them.

_Stop being so pathetic, why did you think for a moment he was actually interested? You saw _him, _you saw his _ex-wife, _in what world would he ever have wanted a second date with you?_

Wanting to distract herself, she reached into her bag and found her notebook. She didn’t know if she could do anything but sob for several minutes, but Brienne at least wanted to try saying something for the Starks. Opening it, she was determined to come up with something better than the three crappy bullet points she had shared with Jaime, if only because she didn’t think she could say _Thirty Five Years of Luck _without bursting into tears.

Getting out a biro, her breath was knocked out of her when she saw what was written on the page in front of her in awkward, messy writing.

  1. _I dislike Chinese food._
  2. _I’m going through a divorce, it becomes official on Tuesday._
  3. _I’m technically a social media influencer, but that doesn’t mean I’m a self-obsessed bastard._
  4. _I have some secrets that I won’t tell you until I trust you._
  5. _I’ve had my hair insured._

“Jaime,” she said out loud in a whisper, running her finger over his words, especially number four. He had told her his secrets and she had not flinched away. Instead, she had held him and told him it was impossible for him to be ugly.

_I’m the ugly one, _she told herself. _Never you._

Unable to look at it anymore, she closed the notebook, before putting it back in her bag. Screw the speech, she was going to have to improvise, because she could not bear to read his words, to remind herself of what had been so possible only hours ago.

_No more suitors, _she told herself. _He was the last one._

_They only break my heart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... sadness :(
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I just want to point out that I ripped a lot of the dialogue directly from the film for this scene, so round of applause to "Man Up"!
> 
> As ever, please let me know what you think in a comment!
> 
> Next time... Brienne goes to the Stark's party alone...


	13. Walking Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes to the Stark's party... alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! So, I'm glad you came back after last chapter's sadness! I love all the comments and kudos - it's great to know you are enjoying it, and helps me improve as a writer!

Brienne managed to calm herself down by the time she got to Clapham. It had taken the old trick of beating herself up with rude insults about her fuck ugly face and her tree trunk legs until she felt nothing but an intractable numbness, but she got there in the end. Knowing that by being so late she had been her total dick to her oldest and dearest friends for no good reason, Brienne decided to go to the corner shop and get some alcohol and nibbles for the party as a peace offering.

Everything was going well as she loaded the bottles of wine onto the counter, until the shop assistant said, “we have a deal on Chinese spring rolls if you want. Great for parties and gatherings.”

A lump began to form in Brienne’s throat at that – Jaime hated Chinese food – so she struggled to suppress it.

_Fuck him, _she thought. _I love Chinese food, and so do the Starks._

“Okay,” she said meekly. “Can I also have two boxes of the spring rolls please?”

Once she had paid, she began the walk to the Stark’s house. They lived at 7 Winterfell Lane, and it was about a ten minute walk from the tube station and the shop, although it seemed longer when she was walking alone.

_Jaime would say this walk is twenty minutes long. Maybe his triathlete date will really teach him otherwise. Tyrion was probably right; Daenerys will whip him into shape._

It was dark and, although there was a moon in the sky, it was cloudy, so it was being obscured along with all the stars. It was perfectly unromantic, just cold and miserable. As she placed one foot in front of the other, she tried to push away the memory of the happiness that had been surging through her when she had danced with Jaime.

_That feeling doesn’t belong to me, _she thought. _I’ll always been second best… third best… fourth best, the absolute bottom of the list. Because of the way I look, I will never be wanted like that. It’s just how life is. I’m not beautiful like Sansa, or Daenerys, or even Cersei. I’m not even plain. And I don’t have the personality to make up for my looks, nor the looks to make up for my personality._

When Brienne finally arrived at the Starks, she took a deep breath before she started digging around for her spare key. The last thing she wanted was to make a public spectacle of herself. She needed to mentally prepare herself for the moment when Sansa would inevitably ask her where Jaime was, and she would just nonchalantly reply, “oh, he couldn’t make it, it just wasn’t meant to be”.

_You can do this, _she told herself as she slipped the key into the lock and made her way into the house. Even from her vantage point by the front door, she could hear Ned Stark talking, making an announcement about the fact that Jory Cassell had very generously brought round a massive keg of beer which he had now set up in the garden, if anyone fancied to partake. Brienne had meant to sneak into the lounge without anyone really noticing, but she had forgotten she was a giantess carrying several heavy bags and so everyone turned to look at her when she appeared in the doorway.

“Brienne!” beamed Sansa. “You are here!”

“Yes,” replied Brienne, her voice catching in her throat as she looked around at all the happy faces in the room. “And I brought wine and Chinese spring rolls.” It was the mention of the Chinese spring rolls that did it. One minute she was putting on a fake smile and grinning at everybody, the next she had dropped all her bags and was sobbing into her hands.

The effect was instantaneous.

“What is it, darling?” asked Catelyn, rushing forward. Soon she felt a friendly cocoon of concerned people wrapping around her – Cat, Ned, Sansa, Robb, and Sandor – taking her out into the hallway where she wouldn’t be in front of the prying eyes of everyone else at the party.

“Brienne,” asked Sansa, worry tinging her voice. “What’s the matter?”

“Humnnnsa dnnhajdjdbs ajsjdkkwnd mngahsnam skahsgdnw,” sobbed Brienne.

“Oooh yes,” said Catelyn soothingly, “that sounds very bad.”

“Sjendjqjn apekdjnw wkwdijdej assbwsbhsw snjwnjhew jwdjhyeijw.”

“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?” asked Sansa, “I’m not quite sure what you are saying.”

Brienne nodded and tried to explain. “Kashuhdjhjq edjiihwiq so fucking gorgeous kjdejjwedodqk don’t sweat it wewekdke djwjkdqi I touched his arse wedhjhjhqdih ewfwjefkbje leopard print underpants ehehdiuhdie efweqweqw vomit on my shoes dqwebdqwjd his ex is a total bitch jjejoejjlkwelkjw told me everything in the men’s toilets wefjwejqehj eroqeroq really funny passionate dance qedhhjiq eqqfefq and then I set him on fire ewjfwheohejq wqefqefq and I’m in the bunny boiler montage wedjbeqhd…”

Sansa put a consoling hand on her friend’s back, rubbing it in circles. “Brienne, I don’t mean to upset you further, but I’m not sure you are actually speaking English. You are going to have to use real words if you want to tell us why you are so upset.”

Pulling herself together, she finally managed to be more articulate. “He went on the right date,” she cried, putting her head on Sansa’s shoulder.

“The right date?” asked Ned gently, “what does that mean?”

“Oh, Brienne…” said Sansa, stroking Brienne’s hair.

“We were having such a good time! We were dancing and talking and laughing and he made me feel so special…”

“Hooray!” said Cat, Ned, and Robb in unison, not quite sure what they were cheering.

“But then he got a call from Tyrion that said the real Daenerys was trying to find him and he decided to go meet her. Jaime decided he wanted _her_, not me, even though I was right in front of him and she was just some fantasy girl in his head.”

At the sudden change of tone, Cat, Ned, and Robb started booing.

“Who is Tyrion?” asked Ned.

“Who is Daenerys?” inquired Cat.

Robb shook his head at their inquiries. “I think the most important question is who is _Jaime._”

“Whoever he is,” Sandor snorted, “he sounds like a total knobhead.”

“He’s _not _a total knobhead,” insisted Brienne through her tears, “he’s just wjedkjbjed djiqdqowh qkdjnkjwdnk wdkjdiqib…”

“Is she saying he’s a total knobhead in so many words?” Robb asked Sandor.

“I have no idea, but if he is a total knobhead I’ll go beat him up,” replied Sandor.

Sansa shot her husband a look. “You will do no such thing, because if he _is _a total knobhead, that’s _my _job. I’ll bitch slap him to next Christmas if he has hurt my best friend.”

“Can people please stop saying total knobhead?” asked Ned. “There must be some other way to describe… what’s his name?”

“Jaime,” supplied Sansa.

“There must be another way to describe Jaime other than a total knobhead,” concluded Ned.

“You just said total knobhead again_, _my darling,” said Cat, patting him on the shoulder.

Ned shook his head, “I didn’t mean to say total knobhead…”

“And again,” said Robb.

“I think we’re getting distracted from the real issues here,” interrupted Sansa. “Jaime is a total knobhead because he didn’t want to come to the party. Correct?”

Brienne tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but more kept falling. “He didn’t want to come to the party, but that doesn’t make him a total knobhead. It would have been like Quasimodo going out with Esmeralda at the end of the book instead of just starving to death clutching her rotting corpse…”

“Is that some obscure literary reference I’m not getting?” Robb asked Sandor.

“I don’t know,” replied Sandor. “I thought she shacked up with Phoebus, but then again I’ve only ever watched the Disney version.”

“Again, we’re getting off the central issue here,” said Sansa, trying to bring the conversation back to the point. “Brienne, have you got some way to contact him? Maybe we can phone him, make him see the bigger picture?”

Brienne sniffled as she said, “I don’t have his number. And anyway, I don’t want to beg. I have more self-respect than that.” Privately, she thought her antics for most of the evening unequivocally demonstrated she did _not _have more self-respect than that, but the thought of magically finding Jaime and then crashing his date with Daenerys was beyond horrifying. It would make her seem desperate and pathetic, and she didn’t want him to see that side of her.

Just then the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” said Sandor, leaving them down one end of the hall as went to answer the door. When he opened it, he said, “what do you want?” in his gruff voice.

Brienne could not immediately see who was standing in the doorway, but when Sandor moved slightly to one side, her mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of who was waiting on the front step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that (slightly short) chapter! Once again, comments and kudos make me sing! 
> 
> Next chapter... who is at the front door?


	14. The Right Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes on his date with Daenerys...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for coming back for another chapter! I am very excited to say that this one is a Jaime POV *shockhorror* so we will go a whole chapter without Brienne's internal monologue! I'm vaguely terrified at this prospect, because I've been inside Brienne's head for so long, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As ever, I lurve comments and kudos!

Tyrion had outright begged. “Come on Jaime, I need to run a few test dates following the rules of the book. If someone accidentally meets their soulmate, it will be great advertising for Melisandre… and make me lots of money in the process.”

“But why me?” Jaime had asked, sipping his coffee. “Surely you’ve got loads of friends you could set up. Bronn’s never had a girlfriend who has lasted more than a month, why not try him?”

Tyrion narrowed his eyes. “I think you are a good shout for several reasons. Firstly, you are obnoxiously good looking, so even if your date thinks you have the personality of a plank of wood, it’s highly likely she’ll come back for date two anyway, giving you more time to try out the book’s tips. Secondly, it’s really about time you stopped shagging around and started concentrating on finding a nice girl. Cersei’s moved on, so should you.” Jaime went to interrupt at that, but Tyrion soldiered on regardless. “And finally, I think you and Daenerys would genuinely make a good match.”

“Why’s that?” he had asked, curious.

“Well, although there’s a bit of an age gap…”

Jaime had copied Tyrion’s expression and narrowed his eyes, “how big?”

“Don’t worry,” Tyrion had said, patting his brother on the shoulder, “I’m not matching you with an octogenarian. She’s twenty-four.”

Jaime had opened his mouth in shock, “come on, Tyrion, she’s thirteen years younger than me.”

“Yes, but you are perfect for each other,” Tyrion had insisted. “She’s totally into her exercising too; she’s a triathlete, her body is nothing less than honed to perfection. She could probably whip you into shape. And more than anything, she’s bloody gorgeous.”

Jaime had been a little sceptical of that description. His and Tyrion’s taste in women were poles apart; Tyrion liked petite, delicate, feminine flowers who would laugh at his jokes and mollycoddle him. Jaime had always preferred his women a little more authoritative. That was why he had been surprised at the woman who was waiting for him under the big clock at Waterloo Station.

“Hey, you must be Daenerys, my blind date.”

The woman who turned around definitely did not look like a petite, delicate, feminine flower; instead, she was tall, taller than him, and built like an Amazonian warrior woman. On her cheek, there was an obvious scar, but it appeared inconsequential in comparison to the deep blue pools that were her eyes. Jaime would not have described Daenerys Targaryen as _bloody gorgeous; _she was not pretty, or beautiful, or even particularly handsome. Yet, even so, Jaime felt his heart hammer wildly against his ribs. Daenerys Targaryen was, after all, the sort of woman who demanded to be looked at. And her legs were _so _long. A particular dirty part of his brain thought about how amazing it would feel to have them wrapped around his hips as he came inside her.

_Thank you, Tyrion, _he thought vaguely, as this woman confirmed her name was Daenerys Targaryen in several different languages.

But then, it had turned out that woman was not Daenerys after all, but Brienne Tarth. Brienne Tarth who was some sort of bowling genius, whose arse looked fucking amazing as she scored strike after strike. Brienne Tarth was he had found kissing her stalker because she was too scared to tell him the truth. Brienne Tarth who had vomited after doing a fake triathlon, just so he couldn’t have one over her. Brienne Tarth who had made up silly sex stories to save his face in front of his ex. Brienne Tarth, whose freckled neck had been as soft as silk as he ran a train of kisses up it. Brienne Tarth who had held the most shameful part of himself in her hands as he poured out his darkest fears. Brienne Tarth who had drawn him close to her as they danced. Brienne Tarth who had made him laugh in a way he hadn’t in a long time as she attempted to put out a fire. Brienne Tarth, who had hit him like a lightning bolt and turned him into a wreck in a space of a few short hours.

It made no sense, as that extraordinary woman was the same Brienne Tarth who had told him she wasn’t bothered one way or the other if he went on a date with Daenerys and hadn’t given him her number as they parted at Waterloo Station. So now he found himself sitting in a swanky cocktail bar with the real Daenerys, who was the type of woman Tyrion _would _describe as bloody gorgeous_, _somewhat shell-shocked and trying to make sense of how the hell it had gone so wrong.

“So,” said Daenerys, “shall we do the lists?” He nodded, leaning into his bag to get out his notebook. Even though he had put his prosthetic back on, it took him a while, so he let Daenerys go first. “I have three cats,” she began, “called Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. They are my children.”

“Have you made up a song about them?” he asked, smiling.

She looked confused. “No. I haven’t.”

_Oh, that’s a shame, I thought it might be better than “Thirty Five Years of Luck”._

Daenerys then went on to explain her favourite food, a rare type of Mongolian delicacy made from a horse’s heart, and Jaime had been a tiny bit repelled. Her third point was that she was a triathlete, and she went on to describe how she was attracted to the sport by the desire to conquer her own body and mind, as well as other people.

“Don’t you just enjoy the buzz you get after you’ve finished exercising? That’s what I like about it,” Jaime asked. Ever since everything had collapsed with Cersei, sweating it out in the gym had been the only way he had ever been able to get a hit of dopamine.

Well, until Brienne of course.

Daenerys shook her head. “No. I enjoy winning. That’s why I’m thinking of doing an Iron Man in Spain next year.”

“Oh, cool,” said Jaime realising that, although Daenerys looked like a petite, delicate, feminine flower, she was actually fucking terrifying. At that point, Jaime finally managed to get hold of his notebook at the bottom of his bag and, just as Daenerys started extolling the virtues of bareback horse riding, he opened it to the first page.

_Thirty Five Years of Luck_

_Zombie Horror Hordes_

_Sansa_

It was like he had been punched. He took in a big gasp of air as he saw the words of the page in front of him: Brienne’s words. Jaime did not know how long he had been staring at her meticulously neat handwriting until he heard Daenerys’ voice from somewhere.

“Are you alright?” Daenerys asked, before Jaime looked up into her purple eyes. Brienne had been right; she did look like a mutant.

He coughed, trying to get his voice to work. “No… yes… I mean… it doesn’t matter.”

It was clear she noticed his discomfort but, even so, her expression did not change. When he gave her nothing more to illuminate what he was thinking, she said, “do you want to be on this date?”

That just made Jaime choke. “Why do you ask that?”

She picked up one of the complimentary olives the waiter had brought them. “Because I know you’ve already been on a date this evening, and I was wondering how this one compares.”

Jaime did not really want Daenerys bringing up Brienne; it was bad enough that he was never going to see her again but talking about it would just remind him that he had not been able to come up with the words to persuade her to give him a second chance.

_Forget about it, _he told himself. _Remember, she wasn’t bothered if you came on this date with Daenerys or not. It meant more to you than it did to her._

“Didn’t Tyrion apologise on my behalf?” Jaime asked. “If not, I’m sorry. There was a woman who had your copy of _Six Billion People and You… _I thought she was you, but apparently she was just sitting next to you on the train and was trying to return your lost book.”

Daenerys nodded. “I know her. Brienne Tarth. She was wearing a _Clash _t-shirt.”

Brienne _had _been wearing a _Clash _t-shirt, but once she had vomited on her own shoes she had gone and changed into the most amazing blue dress that only came to her knees. He had spent the rest of the evening frantically trying not to stare at her legs, or imagine what it would be like to kiss her all the way from the tips of her toes, along the smooth expanse of her strong calves, to the underside of her knee, until her reached the soft skin of her inner thighs and then even beyond there to…

_God, _he said to himself, shaking his head. _If Brienne had known what you were thinking, she’d have thought you were a total pervert who should be in prison for some kind of sex crime._

“She was,” he said shortly, not really wanting to discuss her. “But it doesn’t matter. She was the wrong date.”

Daenerys tilted her head. “That’s a shame, because I left the book there on purpose, you know.”

“What?” spluttered Jaime, as his heart began to beat faster and faster.

Daenerys picked up another olive and then said, “well, no matter how many times I told Tyrion that me and Daario from Reprographics totally have a thing going on… even if Daario doesn’t know it yet… Tyrion insisted I owed it to the client to try out the book’s tips, so he set me up with you. I was totally fine with that, but when I was waiting for the train, I overheard what Brienne was saying on her phone to her friend.”

Jaime was surprised the whole cocktail bar couldn’t hear his heart as it was hammering so loudly. “What was she saying?”

Daenerys looked a little sad. “She was saying she was born ugly and because of that was doomed to just have bottom of the barrel men being mean to her because she won’t let them shove her cocks in her. From what I remember, she told Sansa that she was done with men and didn’t want to go on any more dates, because love just wasn’t for her.”

_Oh, Brienne… _he thought, his heart breaking.

“I found it all quite sad. She struck me as one of those clock-ticking, running out of hope type women, so I figured because I can get a date at the drop of a hat…” Daenerys said, giving a conceited little flick of her hair, “that she could have mine. I told her on the train that it was all about having a positive attitude, but she wasn’t listening to me, so, I thought I’d give her one more chance. I’d heard her tell her friend she wanted more than an easy lay, and that she wanted love and commitment, and I reasoned she would never get that if she stopped dating.”

He felt like he had been hit by a car. “But I’d have given her love and commitment…” he stammered, not quite sure where that sentiment had come from.

Daenerys gave him a confused look. “Then why are you here? Why are you not still on a date with her?”

Throwing all caution to the wind, Jaime told her the truth. “Because she didn’t like me back.”

“What gave you that impression?”

Sighing, he told her all about their conversation at Waterloo Station; how he had told her that he had been invited on a second date, but that he had asked her whether he should go in a teasing way, expecting her to forbid him to go and then he would have totally complied with her order. Instead, she had told him she didn’t care either way and could go if he wanted to. Trying to hide his hurt, he had then left to meet Daenerys.

He expected a smidgen of sympathy, but instead Daenerys just rolled her eyes. “Honestly,” she huffed, “you are both utter morons.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, a little insulted.

“Well, you were waiting for her to ask you not to go, correct?”

“Correct,” he affirmed.

“And she was waiting for you to say _fuck Daenerys, let’s go wherever you want _and choose her. When you didn’t choose her, she just assumed you weren’t interested and decided to cover up how hurt she was by telling you she wasn’t bothered.”

If he felt like he had been hit by a car before, now it was three juggernauts, a herd of elephants and a Boeing 737. “She… she… she… was?”

“Yes,” said Daenerys, giving a little smile. “It’s basic psychology.”

Suddenly, Jaime was on his feet, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Daenerys, but I’ve got to go find her.”

Daenerys just shrugged. “I don’t mind. In fact, it just proves that I was right, and she was wrong. And, no offence, your hair is not as good as Daario’s – his is blue.” Jaime had not pegged Daenerys as an alternative type of girl, but then again, he would not have thought Brienne was one for pretty boys.

_And she totally thought I was a pretty boy, _he thought happily.

After he just stood there for a moment, looking round wildly, Daenerys said, “well, aren’t you going to call her?”

The reality of the situation then dawned on him and where he had been flying, he suddenly fell. “I don’t have her number. I have _your _number. She wasn’t the date Tyrion set me up on, she was just some random woman at Waterloo Station.”

“Think,” ordered Daenerys, getting to her own feet. “You spent the whole evening with her. Surely you can think of something that will give you a clue where she’s gone?”

Wracking his brains, he said, “I know she’s gone to Ned and Cat Stark’s anniversary party, and they are the parents of her best friend Sansa. I don’t know where they live though.”

“Clapham,” said Daenerys firmly. When Jaime gave her an open mouthed look of confusion, Daenerys smiled, “I’ve just remembered that’s where she told me she was going when we were on the train.”

Jaime could have kissed her. “Maybe I can knock on every door in Clapham until I find her?”

Daenerys snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. That will take you weeks. Surely it will be quicker to find her on the internet… why don’t you Facebook her?”

“She’s not on Facebook,” he said, shaking his head. “She thinks the Russians are after her.”

“Of course she does,” said Daenerys, picking up her own phone and opening her Facebook app. After clicking away for a moment, she continued, “and unfortunately, it seems Sansa doesn’t live on the internet under her own name either.”

If he felt depressed before, now his heart was really in freefall. “Is that it then?”

Daenerys shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Everyone is connected. Is there anyone she has mentioned this evening who you might know? Any mutual friends?”

The answer came to him in a flash.

* * *

When Daenerys bundled Jaime into the black cab and sent him off to find Brienne, he pecked her on the cheek, said she was a fucking genius, and would tell Tyrion that if it was in his power to promote her, he should make her CEO of the whole damn publishing house.

“I’ll hold you to that!” she laughed as she waved him off.

Jaime’s stomach was churning the whole journey in the taxi. If truth be told, he had been totally over-inflating his claims of shagging around since his divorce; he’d told Tyrion he was to keep him off his back, and then Brienne because he thought it would make him look cool. In reality, he had only ever slept with Cersei, and this was only the second time in his entire life he had seriously thought about pursuing someone.

_Great, _he thought, _she’s just going to see you as a totally inexperienced cripple. Why the fuck am I even attempting to chase her?_

Yet, even so, he _did _chase her. When the taxi pulled up at _A Walk on the Wild Side, _the bowling alley he and Brienne had been at only a few hours before, he found that it was closing for the night. Dashing inside, he ran up to the front desk, where Ygritte was turning off the computer.

“Oh, it’s you. Did you find your bag?” she asked, clearly not interested.

Not quite picking up what she meant at first, eventually he said, “oh, yes, thanks.”

“Okay,” she replied, a little confused, “so what can I do for you? We are closing.”

“Is Tormund still here?” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Ygritte shrugged. “I don’t know. If he is, he’ll be out back having a smoke.”

“Can I see him please? It’s really important.”

Jaime was eternally gratefully that Ygritte did not give two shits about her job, because she let him come around the desk and through the office to the little quadrangle where the staff went when they were taking their breaks. Sure enough, Tormund was lingering under the only light in the space smoking like a chimney. Jaime was glad to see he had put his clothes back on.

“Tormund…” he began, wondering the best way was to start this.

The man with the world’s most enormous beard looked startled, but then a sullen crossness appeared on his face. “You’re that fucker who came and took her from me.”

Jaime tried not to pull a face. “I believe _she _was the one who asked you to kindly fuck off, not me.”

Tormund didn’t have an answer for that, so he took a drag of his cigarette and then asked, “what do you want?”

“Do you know where Ned and Cat Stark live?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” replied Tormund noncommittally. “They used to throw the most massive Christmas parties every year. The whole neighbourhood knew about them. I even got invited a couple of times… well, that was before I got caught hiding in the Stark’s wheelie bin trying to surprise Brienne and Sansa when they had a sleepover.” He paused, eyeing Jaime suspiciously, “why?”

Jaime saw no point in lying. “Because I believe Brienne is currently there and I _need _to talk to her.”

Tormund dropped his cigarette then stamped on it to put it out. “Why? Did you fuck up?”

“Yes,” he said honestly, “a bit.”

Tormund gave him a nod; it was the type of man to man nod that Jaime thought meant he understood. “I’ll take you,” insisted Tormund.

“Take me?” asked Jaime. “Can’t you just tell me the address?”

Tormund shook his head. “No, I’ll drive you. Come on.”

It was already a terrifying prospect for Jaime to sit in Tormund’s wrecked pink Mini Cooper with the broken window, as he wasn’t sure the thing had passed its MOT, but once the mad wildling started hurtling down the road as if he was trying to break the land speed record, Jaime was starting to think it would have been a better idea to knock on every door in Clapham.

“Woah…” yelled Jaime, trying to grab onto anything in the car that would keep him steady as they skidded round yet another corner. “If you want to just tell me her address, I’ll happily walk there…”

“No!” insisted Tormund as they skidded to a halt at some traffic lights. “You need to tell me your plan.”

“Plan?” asked Jaime, confusion dawning.

Tormund gave him a stern look. “You fucked up. You need to make amends. How are you going to do it? What grand romantic gesture are you going to make?”

If it had been Cersei he was trying to win back after some terrible fight, Jaime would have had to go to the jewellers and buy her a pair of hugely expensive earrings, or a designer handbag. He would have had to take her to some swanky party where she would have dangled off his arm in a low cut dress and casually flirted with every man who walked past. As his punishment, he would have had to endure her making him feel small. Although he had only known Brienne a few hours, he did not think she would be into that sort of thing. Cersei was all fire and rage, whereas Brienne was iron and steel. In some ways, that made it harder. He couldn’t buy her forgiveness; he would have to earn it.

“I’m not going to make some grand romantic gesture,” he said gently. “I’m just going to tell her I couldn’t bear for our evening together to end like that and, if she would just give me the chance, I want to explain to her how much it meant to me. Even if she’s not bothered one way or the other about me, she should know that she deserves so much more than she thinks. For one night, she really made me forget about what I am and let me just be with someone, which is more than I’ve had in years… no, it’s more than I’ve ever had. And I just want to thank her for that. Even if she doesn’t want to see me again, I just want to let her know our evening together made my life a little bit better.”

There was then a very long pause, before Tormund turned to look at him. Then, screwing his face up, the big ginger man burst out laughing. “Oh my god, don’t say that,” he chortled.

“Why not?” asked Jaime, a little hurt.

“Because she’ll think you’re a total pussy,” he bellowed. “Birds don’t like that sort of thing. They like real romantic gestures; serenades, hearts on the line, real stuff. Not prissy, submissive words like that. More like what I was going for back in the toilets… actions you know?”

Jaime had already spent a considerable amount of the evening trying to erase the image of Tormund in his tiny pants from his mind, so was a little discomforted at it being brought up again. However, he soon forgot about it when Tormund’s violent driving meant he was nearly thrown through the windscreen.

“Tormund!” shouted Jaime in an attempt to get him to slow down, “have you definitely passed your test?”

He snorted derisively at that, “of course I have. It’s just I’m in the process of teaching myself to drive with my left hand.”

Jaime tried not to convey he thought his driver was an utter madman in his expression, not when he was the key to Brienne. “Why?”

“Because there are _all sorts _of things you could be doing with your right hand at the same time,” Tormund grinned before letting out a terrifying laugh.

Jaime was sincerely relieved when the Mini Cooper finally skidded to a halt along a very long, dark road somewhere in Clapham. “Winterfell Lane,” said Tormund emphatically, “we are here.”

Quickly unplugging his seat belt, Jaime leapt out of the car faster than he could say _near death experience. _“Thanks Tormund,” said Jaime sincerely, resting his hand on the car’s frame. “I would have never had a chance to find her without you.”

Tormund looked down at the steering wheel. “That’s fine.”

When the man ventured no more details, Jaime asked, “so, which number do the Starks live at?”

Tormund mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“Number Seventy Seven!” yelled Tormund, a little louder than was strictly necessary.

Sensing that Tormund wanted him to leave, Jaime dropped his hand from the car and gave him a nod. “Thanks, I suppose I’ll see you around.”

Still not looking at him, Tormund leant over and slammed the door shut, before shouting, “bon chance, amigo!” After his terrible attempt at foreign languages, the world’s weirdest man sped off into the night.

Pushing Tormund to the back of his mind, Jaime went to find Brienne. Even though the street was dark, it didn’t take Jaime long to find Number Seventy-Seven, if only for the sound of loud music coming from within. _Well, it is a celebration, _he thought, even though he surmised it was a bit weird to be playing dubstep at an anniversary party. Closing his eyes and focusing on the beat, he steeled himself against what he was about to do. Taking one deep breath, he knocked on the door.

“Hello, is Brienne there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! If you also read my other story, "A Big Cop in a Small Town" there is also a tiny easter egg from that in this chapter :D
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, because I love it!
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne sees who is at the front door...


	15. The First Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne finally has to make her speech for Ned and Cat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for coming back! I am truly overwhelmed by all the comments and kudos, and I will get round to answering you all!

“Hello, is Brienne there?”

At the sight of him she nearly groaned, because it was bloody Tormund.

Looking around Sandor’s bulky figure to peer at her, Tormund ran a hand through his hair before saying, “Brienne, I’m not here to make some grand romantic gesture. I’m just here to tell you I couldn’t bear for our evening together to end like that and, if you would just give me the chance, I want to explain to you how much it meant to me…”

At the sight of him, Cat span around, grinning at Brienne. “Is this Jaime?” she whispered excitedly.

Brienne’s mouth was opening and closing but, because of the shock that was slowly setting in, she couldn’t quite bring herself to say, _of course it’s fucking not! It’s Tormund, my childhood stalker! _Her words failing her, she turned to Sansa, hoping she would recognise him. However, it seemed that, just like Brienne herself at the bowling alley, Sansa could not see past the great big bushy beard either.

Cat’s excitement was clearly infectious, as soon the whole group was convinced that Tormund was Jaime and they were all moving down the hall towards him. “Come in!” chirped Ned eagerly, “why don’t you come in for some cake? Then you can talk to Brienne properly.”

“Oooh, cake!” grinned Tormund, as Sandor moved aside so he could come into the house.

“No… no… no…” Brienne heard herself saying, but no one was listening and soon Tormund was being ushered into the living room, handed cake, and given a spot on the sofa.

“Maybe he’s not a total knobhead after all,” laughed Sandor as he disappeared into the living room behind the rest of the Starks.

_As if my evening couldn’t get any worse, _thought Brienne, running her hands over her face. _An hour ago I had Jaime, now all that’s left is Tormund._

Part of her wanted to march into the living room, pick Tormund up by the scruff of his neck and throw him out of the house, but most of her was too tired, too exhausted, and she did not want to make a scene at Ned and Cat’s party. So, sighing, she wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and went into the living room. Even though she was trying to make her way over to the corner with all the alcohol, she was waylaid by Sansa, who had an electric grin on her face.

“What do you think you are doing?” hissed Sansa.

“Going to knock myself out by drinking all the alcohol over on that little table over there.”

Sansa looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “But Jaime is _right there. _Go talk to him._”_

The two women turned to look at ‘Jaime’, who was busy stuffing his face with Victoria Sponge, little crumbs getting caught in his beard. Someone had also got him a drinking horn from somewhere – why the fuck the Starks had a drinking horn, Brienne did not know – which Ned was filling up with milk.

“Sansa! Open your eyes!” said Brienne, exasperatedly. “That’s not Jaime! That’s Tormund Giantsbane! Remember? The guy who stalked me at school?”

Sansa furrowed her brow for a moment before opening her eyes wide. “Oh my god, you are right! I totally didn’t recognise him under his beard! What the hell is he doing here?”

Brienne pinched the bridge of her nose. “God knows, but it’s not the first time I’ve seen him tonight. When I was pretending to be Jaime’s date, we went to a bowling alley and he worked there. Do you remember that time in Year Eleven he threatened to tell everyone that I was a hermaphrodite unless I became his girlfriend? Well, this evening he tried that old trick again and said he’d tell Jaime the truth about me unless I kissed him.”

“You didn’t kiss him, did you?” said Sansa, horrified.

Brienne felt herself blushing, “only a little bit, because I thought I’d get to properly kiss Jaime in return.”

_Oh my god, _came the sudden realisation, _I never got to properly kiss Jaime. And I never will._

Sansa seemed to sudden balloon up, like a silverback gorilla going into battle. “I’m going to go and kick him out,” she said furiously. Brienne was about to sanction it, when there was a clinking sound as Ned tapped his glass, alerting everyone that he was about to make a little speech.

“Now, everyone is probably sick to death of speeches now,” he began jovially, “although we do thank Jon for his _riveting _exploration of everything that ever happened in May 1982, the month I met Cat, so can everyone give him another round of applause.” Ned’s nephew Jon smiled cheerfully and raised his can of beer as everyone lazily clapped him. 

Letting out a contented sigh, Ned said, “I would just like to ask for your indulgence for a few more minutes. Not only do I want to take the opportunity to tell my darling wife how much I love and appreciate her, but I’ve also been promised a speech by our lovely sort-of-daughter, Brienne. She’s had a bit of a tough day, but hopefully saying something nice about Cat and I will take her mind off it. So, everybody put your hands together for Brienne!”

_Oh crap._

Even as Brienne felt her legs shaking, Sansa poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her. “Go do it, Brienne,” she said soothingly. “I’m sure it will be awesome.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

Walking over to the side of the room, her legs felt like lead, even as Ned gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks Ned,” said Brienne, not feeling particularly very thankful towards Ned at that precise moment. Clearing her throat, she tried to think of something to say that was worth the time she had been given. “I won’t take too long with this speech – partly because I know everyone would rather be drinking than listening to me waffle on…” There was a little titter at that, “…and partly because I intended on having this amazingly awesome speech prepared that would somehow perfectly encapsulate Ned and Cat’s entire relationship and what they have meant to all of us over the years.”

“Aww,” said Cat, walking up to Ned so she could pat him on the shoulder.

Brienne lifted up a hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. The vital word in that sentence was _intended. _Work’s been busy, and I was writing something amazing and witty on the train up here… blah… but I managed to misplace it because I lost my notebook… oh, it’s a long story…”

In spite of herself, Jaime’s face came into her mind once more. “Actually… I think I might just tell you the story because it will explain why I was so late, and why my speech is going to be so rubbish.” She cleared her throat once more. “I met a man today.”

“Hello!” cheered Tormund, raising his drinking horn in the air.

Brienne rolled her eyes. “No, not this man. This man is Tormund Giantsbane who I once caught wanking in a wheelie bin. _Definitely _not this man.” The entire gathered party looked a little bit disgusted at Tormund, but he just shrugged and continued drinking his milk. Her story having been somewhat derailed, she tried again.

“It’s probably better if I take a step back,” she mused, trying to find the best way to explain. “I was going to write my speech on the train, but I ended up sitting next to this woman. Her name was Daenerys and she was really beautiful… and also really irritating. She kept telling me that love was all about having a positive attitude and believing you have your own special sauce. Now, I’d just been licked on the nose by a blind date, so I wasn’t in the mood to listen, despite the fact I’ve had the evidence of what Daenerys was saying being the utmost truth in front of my eyes for years in the form of Ned and Cat.”

There was a collective “aww” at that, which Brienne acknowledged with a quick raising of her glass. “Daenerys then left a book on the train, and I chased after her to give it back to her… but instead of finding her, I met this guy called Jaime. He was meant to be on a blind date with Daenerys, and the book was the way of recognising each other.” She sighed, sorely tempted to take a sip of her drink. “Instead of being a normal person and telling him he’d got the wrong girl… I pretended I was Daenerys and went on the date with him.”

The “aww” quickly turned into a series of shocked gasps.

“You didn’t!” gasped Jeyne Poole.

Brienne pulled a face. “Yeah… yeah… I _did. _But if you had seen him, you wouldn’t have blamed me… because he was fricking gorgeous.” She shook her head, suddenly realising that Hoster Tully was giving her a very disapproving look.

“Anyway, I’m not here to tell you all what a total pervert I am. I’m here to say that eventually I told Jaime who I was, and we went out on a _real _date. We danced; it turned out we were both crap slow dancers. We laughed; mainly because I vomited and set someone on fire. But most importantly we talked; I told him things I haven’t really told anyone, and he opened up to me. From my side of things, I was very attracted to him and I felt the spark. I thought there was something there. And, considering how it started, it’s a little ironic but I was able to be myself around him which, when you are me, is sometimes very difficult.”

Sansa gave Brienne a sympathetic expression which she tried not to look at, otherwise she would be in floods of tears again. “But in the end, he decided to go and meet the real Daenerys…”

“Bastard,” said Olenna Tyrell, taking a bit slurp of her sherry.

“The term we favour is knobhead,” corrected Sandor, chortling. Sansa gave him a disapproving look which quickly made him shut up.

“No,” said Brienne, raising her voice. “Don’t call him a bastard, or a knobhead, because he wasn’t either of those things. I was the liar, at the end of the day, and he’d been told by his brother that he and Daenerys were an ideal fit. Jaime was a really lovely guy and, to be honest, I’m thankful that I gave myself the chance to meet him. Not just because it proved that the cynicism I have so enjoyed wallowing in for the past ten years has not completely served me well, but because I got a hint of what Ned and Cat have. So, even though he didn’t choose me, even though he didn’t feel what I felt this evening, for one night I think I got a tiny glimpse of what Ned and Cat have enjoyed for their entire relationship. Acceptance. Trust. Really _seeing _the other person. I don’t really want to bring up your sex lives, Ned and Cat, but you have had five children, so I assume it’s pretty good.”

Her little audience really did laugh at that. “Are you trying to tell us you had sex with Jaime?” gawped Sansa.

Brienne found herself giggling. “No, I did not. All I’m saying is I got a snapshot of how sweet, funny, affectionate, romantic, confusing, crazy, playful, mocking, contradictory, and irreverent being in love can be when I was with him. I got my five hours of luck, so Ned, Cat, you are both so utterly blessed to have had thirty five years of it. You really make the most amazing couple, and every day you provide an example and shining star to all us lonely singletons of what being with someone can really be like. So please, join me in toasting them and their love. To Ned and Cat.”

“To Ned and Cat!” came the response as everyone lifted their drinks in a toast before taking a sip.

To her surprise, Brienne did not start crying again at that, and in fact felt a little relieved. As she knocked her drink back, she managed to acknowledge that the speech had been cathartic. She could spend the rest of her life rueing and regretting Jaime, or she could see it for what it was; a great night out with an attractive guy, who unfortunately didn’t like her back.

_Sucks to be me, _thought Brienne. _But tomorrow is another day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that and that it was clear that Brienne's speech was total improvisation! If you liked it, please leave comments and kudos, it make me so happy.
> 
> Next chapter... what happened to Jaime?


	16. Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out where the hell Jaime is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all once again for coming back! I really hope you are enjoying this story, and, if you are, please leave comments and kudos... it brightens my day!

“Hello, is Brienne there?” asked Jaime tentatively.

The blond stoner who was staring back at him just looked confused. “I’m not Brienne. I’m Lommy.”

Jaime tried not to roll his eyes. “I know _you _are not Brienne. I just wondered if you knew where she was?” The guy shrugged, so Jaime tried again, talking very slowly. “I’m looking for Brienne Tarth, is she here? She’s a little bit taller than me, thirty two, blonde, freckly, the most amazing legs, stunning blue eyes… does that ring any bells? She’s meant to be at your party…?”

Lommy gave one find shrug before slightly turning around and yelling “BRIENNE! THIS DUDE IS LOOKING FOR YOU” into the faces of the confused revellers standing immediately behind him.

Rapidly realising this wasn’t going anywhere, Jaime said, “do you mind if I come in and have a look for her?” Stepping aside, Lommy just shrugged again and turned away, allowing Jaime to shuffle past him into the den of iniquity. A type of music Jaime hated was blaring out on some speakers from somewhere, and there was the very distinct smell of beer and weed.

_Ned and Cat Stark are not the nice suburban middle-aged couple I was expecting,_ he thought.

He eventually managed to make his way along the corridor, stopping the least stoned and drunk partygoers to ask about Brienne. After several blank faces, Jaime changed tack and inquired about the Starks but, to his surprise, he was rewarded with equally clueless expressions. Once he got to the end of the hall, he realised that the average age of the people at the party was significantly younger than what he would expect for a thirty-fifth anniversary party. At most, the oldest people in attendance (apart from himself) seemed to be in their late twenties. The reason for this weird mystery was only solved when Jaime managed to get into the lounge, and saw the enormous banner stretched above the fireplace.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GENDRY

_That bastard brought me to the wrong house, _realised Jaime suddenly. _He wanted me to tell him my plan for winning over Brienne, and then he went to use it himself! _

As that revelation sunk in, Jaime felt his heart fall. Only moments ago he had been so convinced he was going to see Brienne again, that he would be able to tell her what their evening together had meant to him, and now hope was quickly slipping away.

_No, I’m in Clapham, _he reassured himself. _There might be a chance that someone at this party knows either her or the Starks. I can’t give up._

Looking round the room, Jaime saw it was mostly filled with people dancing to the music played on the loudspeakers. In the corner, there was a sound desk and a big guy standing under a sign saying DJ HOT PIE was announcing the next song over a microphone. “Next up, we’ve got the one hit wonder _I Didn’t Push Her Out the Moon Door _by Marillion. Hands in the air everyone!” DJ Hot Pie announced, as there was a cheer.

Jaime was over by the sound desk in a shot. Pushing through the crowd, he was eventually level with DJ Hot Pie. “Sorry brah,” said Jaime, trying to channel the colloquialisms of the young, “I need to borrow your microphone a second.” DJ Hot Pie was so astonished that he let Jaime steal his microphone and push his way onto the sound desk. “Oh, and do you mind turning the music down for a minute? I need to make a quick announcement.”

“You can’t just…” began DJ Hot Pie.

“Yes I can,” said Jaime emphatically. “And unless you turn the music down, I will start randomly pressing buttons and I have _no idea _how any of this works.”

Terrified for his equipment, DJ Hot Pie complied and turned down the music. There was a groan from the dancers. “Be quick,” he huffed. “You are ruining my set.”

Jaime turned around, microphone in hand to look a lot of cross faces. “Sorry everybody, and… errr… Happy Birthday Gendry, I guess… but if I could just have your attention for a moment.”

“Hey!” came a shout from a woman over the other side of the room with short brown hair and a horsey face. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaime said, putting his mouth a little too close to the microphone so it screeched. “My name is Jaime… I don’t actually know any of you… I’m at the wrong house entirely… but your friend Lommy let me in because I need help looking for someone.”

“Why is Lommy letting in randoms?” asked the woman to the man with dark hair by her side.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but probably because Lommy is so high he doesn’t know what day of the week it is.”

The pair had just started to bicker when Jaime spoke into the microphone again, cutting them off, as he tried to illustrate his problem. “I wondered if any of you happened to know where Ned and Cat Stark live? They are having an anniversary party this evening and someone I _really _need to talk to is there.”

The woman suddenly stopped whispering to the man and turned to look at Jaime once more. “I know where they live,” she said casually.

“Do you?” beamed Jaime, overjoyed.

The man next to her snorted. “I would hope so. She is their bloody daughter.”

“Gendry,” the woman snapped, “why are you going giving out my private information to random people?”

“Sorry Arya,” the guy replied, and for that he got a whack. Apparently her first name was more top secret private information.

“I’m sorry…” said Jaime, a little confused. “But if you are their daughter, why are you not at their party?”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Gendry’s party was the same time, and he’s my snuggle bunny, so I had to come here. I was planning on popping in later though.”

Mildly amused that Arya’s first name was too much private information to be giving out to a stranger, but her intimate pet name for her boyfriend was not, Jaime returned to the pressing issue. “Look, I’m sorry for interrupting you, but please could you tell me where they live?”

“Why?” said Arya, narrowing her eyes. “If you are one of Sansa’s ex-boyfriends, I’m telling you, she is married, and her husband is much bigger than you.”

Jaime suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not one of Sansa’s ex-boyfriends. I need to find Brienne, Brienne Tarth.”

That genuinely made Arya look concerned. “Why?” she asked again. “Are you one of those twats who made a bet they could sleep with her? If so, I _will _punch you.”

“No!” insisted Jaime, horror dawning on him that there was yet another group of idiots who had treated Brienne so horribly. “I went on a _date _with Brienne tonight, and I was a total dick and didn’t get her number, and I _should _have got her number because I think we are weirdly perfect for each other. So I need to find her _now _to tell her that, and I know she is at the Starks’ house. I’ve already trusted her stupid bowling stalker once tonight, more fool me, so could you _please _just do me a favour and tell me where your parents live!”

He only realised he had been shouting into the microphone when the discontented muttering that had been going on since DJ Hot Pie turned the music down went suddenly quiet. Trying to soften his tone, he said sweetly, “please_. _I think she liked me too. _Please_.”

_If I have to fucking beg, I’ll fucking beg._

There was a moment of silence where Jaime just looked at Arya, hoping to convince her with nothing but his expression. Eventually, Gendry spoke, “you do realise you are talking to the world’s least romantic woman, don’t you?” That earned him another whack.

Jaime couldn’t help himself. “And yet she calls you _snuggle bunny_.”

That got a laugh from the little group of dancers and even Arya Stark’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “Fine,” she said eventually, a blush in her cheeks, “but I’m taking you there, so if you are a dick again, I will be close enough to punch you.”

Jaime considered the offer for a moment, remembering that his decision to trust Tormund had led to his appearance at the wrong bloody house. He would have preferred it if Arya had just told him her address but, knowing he had little choice, he relented and said, “thank you. I’ll go where you lead.”

Arya made a beckoning gesture towards him as Jaime shoved the microphone back into DJ Hot Pie’s hands and made to follow her towards the door. Just then, Gendry said, “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to,” responded Arya, “it’s only down the road.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to leave you with a strange man.”

Even as Jaime was about to say that he wasn’t some predator, Arya stated unequivocally, “you know I can take of myself.”

“I know,” replied Gendry gently, “but I’ll still come with you.”

Arya’s expression softened slightly at that but became stony again two seconds later when DJ Hot Pie announced, “I’m coming too!”

“You can’t come!” ordered Arya, “you’re the damn DJ!”

“He’s already ruined my set,” said DJ Hot Pie, pointing at Jaime, “and, anyway, I can’t leave the birthday boy.”

That opened the floodgates. “I’m coming as well!

“No Mya,” ordered Gendry, “stay here!”

Mya laughed, “no way. This sounds like it’s going to be a proper drama. I want to see it!”

“Drama? I love a bit of drama! I’m coming too!”

“If you are going, I’m going.”

“I could do with a bit of fresh air.”

“Yeah, I hate the smell of weed in here.”

“I heard the Starks’ have cake. Gendry, it’s your birthday. You need a cake.”

“Why don’t we all go, make an event of it?”

“I’m going to get Ros from upstairs, she loves a bit of all that.”

In the space of thirty seconds, the situation had changed from Jaime being accompanied down the road by Arya Stark, to Jaime being escorted by a whole army of drunks and stoners who wanted to go see a bit of romance and drama. Jaime was thankful that someone was at last taking him in the right direction, but he was also developing a bit of performance anxiety, as he realised he would probably have to end up saying his peace in front of more people than just Brienne.

_Fuck, and she doesn’t even like romantic gestures._

When Arya and her army had marched him half way down the deceptively long and winding road, she said, “don’t go overboard. No ridiculous over the top lovey-dovey stuff. Brienne will just like honest, truthful words. Don’t try and sing to her because you think it is romantic or some shit like that.”

Jaime snorted, “don’t worry. I won’t sing to her.”

He finally realised they were at the right place when he saw Tormund’s obnoxiously pink car parked at the side of the road. _I’ll deal with him later, _thought Jaime darkly, even as Arya started pointing out her parents’ house.

“There. That one. Number Seven.”

Jaime was relieved as he turned to thank Arya, but that feeling was quickly quashed by the army of drunks and stoners who went bundling into the Starks’ front garden. “Hey!” he called, “I have to be at the front, or you don't get to see the drama!"

Unfortunately, the garden had become so full up of curious viewers that Jaime couldn’t get anywhere near the front door, so he decided to cut across to the window. The blinds were partially lowered, so when he reached it, he crouched down to see inside. Arya followed, but he barely registered the fact that she had knelt down beside him, because he looked through the glass and saw her.

_Brienne._

She was still wearing the ridiculously sexy blue dress from earlier, and from this low angle he had a fabulous view of her legs. Undressing her with his eyes from head to toe, his heart twinged when he saw her cheeks were a little red, and it looked as if she had been crying. Even so, it was clear she had just finished a speech, because she raised her glass in the air before taking a sip. The way she tipped her head back revealed the freckled expanse of her neck and he just couldn’t wait anymore.

“Brienne!” he shouted, banging on the window. “Brienne!” At the sound, several people inside the Starks’ lounge turned to the source of the noise, but not Brienne. Consequently, he tried again. “Brienne! I’m over here!”

Finally, she heard his voice and turned to look at the window. Her expression was utterly priceless. It went from the warm grin she had been wearing while making her speech, to total confusion, to an open mouthed stare that he hoped was shock and not horror. The only thing he could think of doing was giving her a smile and a little wave.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” muttered Arya. “Get in there, you total melon.”

The next moment, Arya was pushing up the Starks’ window and Jaime found himself climbing inside, with all the grace and elegance of a newborn giraffe. After doing a sort of fireman’s roll, he got to his feet and dusted himself off before surveying the room. Everyone was staring at him, including Brienne, whose big, beautiful blue eyes were so wide he thought they would pop out of her skull.

They just stared at each other for a bit, before she wisely broke the silence.

“Jaime…” she said breathlessly. “What the hell are _you _doing here?”

_Oh shit, _he thought. _Now I actually have to say something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... they are once again in the same building! I hope you enjoyed that and, as ever, comments and kudos give me wings.
> 
> Small note - hilarious fact, but the role fulfilled by Arya in this scene is played by Game of Thrones' Tommen in the film :D
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime says something...


	17. The Second Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gives the second speech of the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early surprise for you, mainly due to the fact that I'm busy for the next few days and I want to finish this story before I take a tiny break, and then launch my next fic (which I'll tell you about soon).
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos make me joyful!

After taking her sip of wine, Brienne went to turn to talk to Ned but was distracted by the sound of banging. Looking at Ned, she found he had turned in the direction of the window, so she followed the line of his gaze… and then nearly tripped over thin air when she realised what she was seeing.

Jaime Lannister was waving at her.

Blinking rapidly, she then noticed he was knelt next to Arya, who muttered something to him then pushed open the window. In a moment, Jaime was rolling through into the lounge, dusting himself off and taking several very purposeful steps in her direction. In her eyes, he looked like the handsome lead in a romance movie and it was making her mouth dry. When he finally came to a halt, Brienne found the courage to speak.

“Jaime…” she stammered, totally confused. “What the hell are _you _doing here?”

“Ooooooh,” said several of the guests on realising this was the same Jaime from her speech. A smattering of whispers broke out and Olenna Tyrell in particular was looking like she was living for the drama. To Brienne’s surprise, however, it was Sansa that actually acknowledged his presence.

“Jesus Christ, Brienne, you didn’t tell me he was a bloody model!” she blurted out.

Brienne started waving her arm at her friend in an attempt to get to shut up as a grin started appearing on Jaime’s face. “He’s a social media influencer, _actually_,” said Brienne, correcting her, “but that’s a bit beside the point right now.”

_Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god._

He was looking at her so intently with those big green eyes of his, that she was a bit surprised she hadn’t just melted as if she was the Wicked Witch of the West and he had just poured a bucket of water over her. Eventually, he ended her torture when words started coming out of his mouth. “I thought you might want your speech. I have your notebook,” he said, signalling over to his bag which he had hastily discarded on climbing through the window.

She furrowed her brow, “it’s too late. I’ve already made it.”

He tilted his head to the side. “No… do you want your speech?”

“I…” Now she really was confused.

He gave her a little smile, “I promise it will be a good one.”

“Okay,” said Brienne slowly. “Give it to me.”

_Give it to me, Jaime. I want everything and I want it now and I can’t bear this wanting another moment longer while you are just standing there…_

He looked a little flustered for a moment before saying, “well… erm… before I start, I should probably apologise to everyone here, especially Ned and Cat for intruding on your anniversary party. I’m apparently making a thing of gate-crashing parties this evening.” As Jaime looked around as if he expected it to be perfectly obvious who Ned and Cat were, there was a cheer from the drunken army watching through the window at the mention of their own crashed party.

Ignoring the drunken revellers, Brienne said, “that’s Ned, that’s Cat,” pointing at them one at a time whilst never taking her eyes off him.

Jaime nodded at both of them briefly, “I am very sorry for interrupting, I just really need to say something to Brienne.” There was silence for a moment, before Jaime turned around and stole Robb’s beer off him and drained it in three gulps.

_Is he… nervous?_

“So…” he said, once more turning to Brienne, steeling himself. “I went on a date tonight with a woman called Daenerys Targaryen.” Part of Brienne wanted to make him stop talking – she did not want to hear about his date with Daenerys – but more of her wanted to know where this story was going, so she remained quiet.

“My brother Tyrion set us up, and he claimed we were perfect for each other. I was so looking forward to it because it was my first proper date in ages. And then I met Daenerys Targaryen… but it turned out she wasn’t Daenerys Targaryen at all. Her name was Brienne Tarth, and then as we spent hours bowling and drinking and racing in fake triathlons and dancing and talking… I realised my brother was wrong. Daenerys Targaryen isn’t perfect for me at all because you are, Brienne. _You_.”

Brienne shoved her glass of wine into Ned’s hands, knowing if she held it much longer, she would drop it. “Jaime…”

He didn’t let her speak as he was on a flow. “I was angry with you when I first found out you weren’t Daenerys, because I thought you’d cost me the right date with my dream girl, but I was just being bloody stupid. I was on the right date the whole time and I just didn’t have the courage to say it at the station. How could it not have been the perfect date? You doused my ex-wife with a fire extinguisher. Your arse looked bloody amazing when you kept scoring strikes and thoroughly spanking me at bowling. Apparently, we both know the complimentary dance parts to an Ed Sheeran song. And most of all you sat me down and talked to me in the men’s toilets in a way I’ve needed but never had my whole life, even as I sobbed like a little boy.”

Even as she could hear her heart beat in her ears, she wanted to help him. “It was just your hay fever,” said Brienne soothingly.

“We both know I was crying,” he replied, a hint of a laugh in his tone.

She smiled, “okay, you were crying.”

“I _was _crying,” he acknowledged, “and not because you called me a pretty boy who only thought with his dick, but because you _saw _me. You got under my skin. You looked at me in a way no one ever has before and made me realise I’m not this broken fucked up mess I thought I was. I’m more than that, and so are you.” His green eyes seemed to glisten. “You told me I am an emotional jigsaw and that I just had to look for the blue bits to put myself back together. So, that’s why I’m here…” Jaime took a deep breath, before his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “I think _you _are the blue bits, Brienne. You are even standing there wearing that beautiful blue dress I haven’t been able to take my eyes off half the night. It’s like it’s you are a walking metaphor or something.”

Some of the gathered crowd started to “aww” at that. “No, please don’t make that sound,” commanded Jaime, his voice cracking, “I’m already on the edge.”

Brienne was sure she had entirely forgotten how to breathe as Jaime carried on. “And that’s why I had to come and find you, because I knew I’d made a mistake at the station. I was too scared to say that I really wanted you and I totally blew it, like the stupid, mid-life crisis, thirty-seven year old dickhead that I am.”

“Knobhead,” corrected Sandor and Robb at the same time, before they high-fived.

Not wanting the moment shattered, Brienne pointed a warning finger at them both before turning back to Jaime. Still searching for the words, he shook his head before saying, “and I think you were frightened too, and I just couldn’t see it, so we ended up running away from each other after saying the world’s most inadequate goodbye considering the evening we just shared. I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t come and find you, even though you had said you weren’t really bothered either way.”

“Jaime…” _I am bothered, I am! _However, she had no time to say it as he just kept talking, his words galloping ahead of him.

“I partly have the _real _Daenerys Targaryen to thank for that, because she basically slapped me around and told me to go after you, but even so I did it because that’s what I want. I want you, Brienne. _You. _So I did the only thing I could think of doing, and I threw myself on the mercy of Tormund here, who it turns out is not the most reliable source of information as to where you live…”

The audience of anniversary party guests and drunks turned to look at Tormund, all letting out a collective gasp of horror together as if someone was holding up signs and telling them how to react. Fittingly enough, Tormund went as red as a tomato behind his beard.

“Tormund!” squeaked Brienne, “did you tell Jaime the wrong address?”

Tormund looked from Jaime, to Brienne, to the Starks, to Sandor, to Olenna Tyrell, and back again, his guilt growing ever more obvious across his face, before throwing his drinking horn into the air and dashing out of the house at the speed of light. At his exit, there was a mixture of cheering and muttering and laughter. Apparently, the guy with the reaction cue cards had gone for a coffee break. Once Tormund was outside, Brienne could distantly hear some of the partygoers asking him questions, but her attention was only on Jaime, who took up his soliloquy once more.

“But luckily for me, Tormund sent me to number seventy-seven, where I found this army of very helpful drunks who were only too happy to bring me here, on the condition I didn’t sing to you.” The drunks gave an appreciative cheer from outside.

Brienne laughed at that, “yeah, we’ve probably had too much singing this evening.”

“Definitely,” Jaime smiled, before his expression grew serious again. “So, that’s why I’m here because I just had to say something to you because I want a second date, and a third, and a fourth, and fifth … and… oh fuck, maybe I should stop talking now because I’m probably embarrassing you and I know you are not a great lover of huge romantic gestures and I’m probably cocking this all up…” His face crumpled slightly, almost as if he expected her to reject him, anticipating that she would push him away. It surprised her so much that she could not keep her opinions to herself a moment longer.

“Who am I kidding?” she almost growled, “I fucking love it.”

With three big strides she was upon him and she threw herself into his arms. Jaime caught her and kissed her, and then kissed her some more. There were stars, sunbursts, lightning bolts, and every other ridiculous thing Brienne only thought happened in stories. She kept her hands on his face, running her finger along his cheekbone and jaw, and even across his ears, amazed as he moaned into her mouth. Brienne had suspected that Jaime would be a well-practiced kisser – teasing, coaxing, the teacher of the two of them – but she quickly found out he was all tongue and enthusiasm and it just made him even more bloody endearing than he already was. For his part, he grasped at her, and she suddenly felt a delicious weakness in the face of his strength.

_I’m not part of the montage, or an NPC, _she thought happily. _I’m the protagonist of the whole damn story._

Brienne only realised that the party guests and the drunks were cheering when Jaime broke the kiss, but he kept his arms around her, pulling her against him. A moment later, Ned had given her back her glass of wine, and Cat had found more beer for Jaime.

“I think after a speech like that,” said Ned cheerfully, “we deserve another toast.”

Jaime turned to her, his green eyes flashing, “what shall we toast to?”

Brienne thought about it a moment. “Well, what does it say in _Six Billion People and You_?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaime honestly, “I barely read any of it.”

Brienne laughed. “One of the chapter titles I managed to quickly scan was called _Fuck the Past. _Appropriate?”

Jaime nodded and let out a little chuckle. “Fuck the Past,” he said, raising his beer.

“Fuck the Past!” toasted everyone, before taking a sip of their drinks. The drunks cheered outside.

And then everything went by in a blur. Their glasses were taken away and Jaime pulled her into a tight embrace, her mouth at his ear. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What for?” he replied.

“For coming after me,” she said gently.

“Best decision I ever made,” he responded, his sincerity brightening his tone.

At that, Brienne knew she couldn’t keep standing in the Starks’ living room being stared at by a massive crowd of people, not when she wanted Jaime to be hers and hers alone. Kissing him briefly, she whispered, “come with me,” before taking hold of his hand and leading him through the throng that were waiting to congratulate them. After offering some thanks (and briefly telling Sansa she would call her tomorrow and tell her _everything_), Brienne managed to shuffle Jaime out into the hall and then on into the small bathroom below the stairs, even as the rest of the house burst into revelry again.

The whole way there Brienne had been trying to think of the best thing to say to him, but once he had locked the door behind them, there was no need for words as Jaime pounced on her with pure, unbridled lust in his eyes. Not even thinking that it might be a bit weird to get it on in the Starks’ downstairs bathroom, Brienne let him push her back against the counter. As she began madly pawing at his shirt, he ran his hand through her hair, pulling lightly at her, while they kissed so hard that Brienne could taste blood, their tongues dancing.

She only pulled away when she had managed to rid him of his raincoat and unbutton his shirt. The Brienne who had dated Hyle had been shy and retiring, only reaching out to touch her boyfriend when he commanded, but she was so hungry for Jaime she just wanted to give and take and give and take and never stop. Breaking away from their kiss, she ran her hands across his hard, masculine chest, taking particular pleasure in catching her fingers in his golden chest hair, and watching his nipples pucker when she lightly brushed against them.

“You’re growling at me,” he said throatily.

“What?”

“You’re growling at me,” he repeated. At that statement, she dropped her hands, slightly ashamed of her obvious desire for him. When he saw what she had done, he groaned, “no, don’t stop. I like it. It’s sexy as fuck. Keep going.” Bringing her hands back up to his chest, she began running them over his perfect body once more, making him moan. Soon, he was mirroring her, grasping at her breasts through the soft material of her dress. He pulled her into another kiss, but it quickly dissolved into laughter when they realised that now, they were both growling at each other.

“Wait,” she said, over her laughter. “Now we’ve both stopped growling, there’s something I’ve wanted to do since I first met you.”

“Which is?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Taking both hands, she put them on his head and started to rake her hands quite violently through his hair, turning him this way and that to make sure his blond mane was entirely ruffled. He just laughed more.

“I might have to sue you for five thousand pounds for this,” he chuckled.

“Shut up, you love it.” When it was well and truly messed up, she said, “there you go. Done. We can go back to kissing now.”

“No we can’t,” replied Jaime.

That made her nervous, worried she’d done something wrong. “Why not?”

His expression was teasing. “Because now you owe _me _something I want to do.”

Brienne snorted, “oh, do I?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, a predatorial smile on his face. “Turn around.”

Even though she felt a little self-conscious, Brienne did what he said, resting her hands on the bathroom counter and looking into the mirror in the process. She could see him smiling behind her, and the next thing she knew his hand was on her shoulder, massaging her and making her sigh.

“You are far too uptight,” he purred, using the same line she had used on him back at the bowling alley. “You need to _relax._”

Following her plan from earlier in the evening, he ran his hand down her back, stopping to take his time to feel the side of her breast, her waist, the line down the centre of her back. Eventually, Brienne worked out where he was aiming for; he cupped her arse and gave it a little squeeze. He smiled cheekily at her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You are so bad,” she laughed.

“Pot, kettle,” he grinned. “You squeezed my arse first.”

“I did no such thing!” she objected, even though she knew it was a total lie.

“You _so _did,” he smirked, “but don’t worry, I loved it.”

With that, he wrapped both arms around her waist and held her close, pressing his cheek to hers and looking at their reflections in the mirror. The sight of him – sweet, lovely Jaime – just holding her brought a lump to her throat. Even in her relationship with Hyle, he had never been this tender with her. She wasn’t used to it; she didn’t know what to do. But, instead of scrambling around in the dark, Brienne decided to put her faith in him and articulate her desire.

“Jaime,” she said gently, even as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest with how hard it was hammering against her ribs.

“Yes?”

“Can you do something else for me?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, still looking at her in the mirror.

She took a breath, trying to stop her cheeks going red. “Can you… can you…”

“What?” he asked, coaxingly.

It all came out in a rush as she blushed furiously. “Can you kiss my neck again like you did at _The Red Keep? _But this time, can you mean it?”

He smiled at her. “I meant it the first time, but I can do it again if you want.”

“Yes please,” she breathed, even as he was pulling the strap of her dress off her shoulder with his hand. She tilted her head for him, to give him easier access to where she wanted him, and then had to try not to shiver when he brushed her hair over her shoulder, leaving her skin exposed to him. Brienne inhaled sharply when he placed an excruciatingly gentle kiss on her shoulder, and then began a slow trail along the space above her collarbone and up her neck. This time there was no doubt; he sucked and nipped at her with the intention of marking her, and she didn’t care because she was so desperate to be his. When he lingered overlong on the join between her shoulder and neck, she let out a little moan which she tried to stifle with her hand.

“Don’t,” he murmured, “I want to hear you.”

With that, she let him hear her pleasure as he made his way up to her ear, sucking and kissing as he had done back at the bar, before continuing his journey across her cheek, unashamedly pressing his lips to her scar. Lifting his fingers, he turned her to face him and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth once more, but this time it was slow, teasing, sensual. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her flat against him, meaning she was finally able to confirm an earlier suspicion about how hard he was.

_It’s me that’s doing this to him. Me?!?!_

Wanting to be even closer to him, she turned around in his arms, deepening the kiss as he jutted his hips against her, grinding his erection against her. Dropping his left hand, he scooped it behind her thigh, bringing her leg up so it was up against his hips. The new angle meant he could position himself more easily between her thighs, allowing her to feel his hardness right next to where she longed him to put it.

“Your legs have been driving me mad all night, absolutely mad,” he groaned, his forehead pressed to hers. “I can’t hide it anymore; I want you to wrap them around me, Brienne, as I fuck you.” Even though he was lustful and demanding, there was something breathless and dreamy in his voice at the same time.

If she couldn’t feel her foot planted firmly on the ground, she would have been convinced she had well and truly melted into a puddle of desire at that declaration. Not being able to stop herself, she let out a little gasp before saying incredulously, “since when?”

Grinning, he teased, “since you totally accidentally on purpose grabbed my arse at the bowling alley.”

She snorted, “well I’ve wanted to fuck you since _hey, you must be Daenerys_, so I win.”

“Actually,” he said, fixing her with a mocking look, “I think that means I win.”

“No, I definitely win.”

“I win.”

“Nope. I win.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we just win together?”

“How do you propose to do that, Mr Lannister?” she asked, knowing what the answer would be.

“Well, where do you live?”

“Tooting.”

He considered that for a moment. “I live in Wimbledon, so I think that means you are closer, so let’s go to yours.”

“And what do we do when we get to mine?”

He kissed her on the lips very lightly, before pulling away and murmuring, “although I would totally be up for trying out the Waterfall, the Pogo Stick, and whatever other batshit positions you know, I think it’s probably more important that we look into each other’s eyes when I’m inside you tonight.”

Brienne shook her head in disbelief, hardly able to comprehend that he was saying this to her. “You have such an amazing gift for making fucking sound romantic.”

He furrowed his brow. “That’s because it can be romantic if you do it right.”

“Maybe I’ve never done it right,” she said nervously.

“I can show you if you want,” he said tenderly, dropping her leg so he could bring his hand up and touch her face. It was such an unbearably sweet statement that Brienne was nodding, kissing him, and nearly crying with the sheer emotion of it in a moment. Tasting his smile against her lips, she just let herself surrender to him as he held her in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. I've been tinkering around with it for a while, so I would love some feedback on it (because it is this sort of scene I struggle with)!
> 
> Now, this is where the film Man Up sort of ends, but I wanted to do a little epilogue, so I hope you come back next time!
> 
> The next (and final) chapter... The Blue Bits...


	18. The Blue Bits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne become a couple...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that took longer than I was anticipating, but I hope you enjoy it! It is the last chapter, so please leave me comments and kudos (because I love it!)

When Brienne woke up the next morning, she did not open her eyes immediately because she had been having such a beautiful dream. There had been a man called Jaime Lannister who had totally swept her off her feet with a stupidly romantic speech at Ned and Cat’s anniversary party. After they had kissed each other senseless in the Starks’ bathroom, they had run into the night together. Huddled on the Tube, counting the seconds until they could truly be alone, he had held her tightly in his arms and whispered all the things he wanted to do to her in her ear. Then, once they finally reached her place, he kept his promise and they spent the whole night gazing into each other’s eyes as they made love. And it was _making love, _not having sex or fucking, because she had never felt so connected to someone in her whole damn life. It had all been so amazing that she didn’t want to return to reality just yet.

Eventually, she opened her eyes and rolled over to find Jaime staring back at her.

_Fuck, he’s real._

“Good morning,” he said gently, his eyes still soft with sleep.

Brienne wanted to say _good morning _back, like a normal person would. After all, this was the man whom she had dragged into her bed and let push open her thighs and stick his tongue, then his fingers, then his cock in a place no one had for eight years. Instead of saying anything, however, she just drew back slightly and pulled the covers more tightly around her, unsure of what to do. Would he now get up and leave? Would she have to make breakfast for him before he went? Would…?

“Is everything alright?” he asked, his green eyes filled with concern as he lifted his hand and touched her cheek. Almost instinctually, she leant into his caress, closing her eyes in the process.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Everything is alright.”

“Just alright?” he asked.

His question surprised her, so she snapped her eyes open. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a sleepy, dreamy smile. “Well, because I don’t just feel alright; I feel fucking fantastic. Last night was just… last night was… it was… oh, I don’t even have the words, but _wasn’t it?”_

Brienne reached out to touch him and when her fingers brushed his cheek, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. In a moment, he had climbed on top of her and was kissing her furiously. There was nothing to do but respond enthusiastically. Even as she met his tongue with her own, she opened her legs and wrapped her arms around him to bring him closer to her, to permit him into an intimacy that she had never allowed anyone before. When they broke apart, she was stroking his face.

She smiled at him. “Well, it confirmed a suspicion I had when I first met you.”

“Which was?” he asked, a little confused.

Brienne couldn’t help but blush, even as she attempted to flirt. “Your stubble felt amazing on the inside of my thighs.”

He laughed at that, “and it confirmed a suspicion _I _had; I loved the feel of your legs round my hips when I was inside you.”

“What?” she teased, feeling herself relaxing “a little like this?” Lifting her legs up, she pulled them round him, hitching her ankles together in order to lock him closely to her. He let out a little groan.

“Just like that,” he said, biting his lip. “You’ve got such long legs.”

Brienne found herself having a happy little laugh at that, as she pulled him closer to her, so all his weight was upon her and his head on her shoulder. She then pulled the covers up over them both, so it was just him and her cocooned in the warmth of her bed. Her heart nearly melted when he sighed contentedly.

“What do you propose we do today?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

Brienne couldn’t find the words for a minute. “You… you… want to spend the day with me?”

He drew back slightly so he could look at her. “Yes. And I have some ideas…”

“Which are?”

“Well,” he began, “while you were asleep, I was having a little Google, and apparently there’s a showing of _Zombie Horror Hordes _at five at one of those indie cinemas in Balham. I thought it sounded a good shout for date two.”

“Date two?” she asked, still a little unwilling to accept this was reality.

“_Yes,_” he said again, even more forcefully. “And then we could go out to dinner somewhere and have whatever you fancy… but no Chinese food. Then I thought you could come to mine. How does that sound?”

Even though it sounded like the best damn plan she had heard in her whole damn life, she found herself stammering as she said, “yes… that… that… sounds great.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice soft, as he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Biting her lip, Brienne tried to be brave. “What shall we do until then?”

Jaime gave her a predatorial grin, before his eyes suddenly went wide. “Actually, you need to put your number in my goddamn phone, so I don’t have to do another magical mystery tour of south London to find you.”

She nodded, but that was not the answer she wanted. “And what shall we do _then_?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “What do you want to do?”

Drawing close to his ear, she whispered, “I think you know.”

* * *

It was physically difficult to leave Jaime on Monday morning to go to work, because the insecure part of her thought he would vanish, like the memory of a beautiful dream later on in the day.

“I haven’t got a busy schedule at work today,” Jaime said after he had come out of the shower and got changed into his work suit. “So I’ll try and find something for us to do this evening during my lunch break.”

“Ok,” she said, demonstrating what an engaging conversationalist she was. Brienne tried to look relaxed, but it was very difficult, as she was a little uncomfortable as she was wearing same outfit she had the day before. She had not had time to return home after the cinema and hadn’t thought to bring anything with her, as she wasn’t used to sleeping in beds that weren’t her own, after all.

“See you later,” he said after kissing her deeply when it was finally time to say goodbye.

“Yes,” she replied. It wasn’t very profound, and it did not convey all that she felt at that moment, but it was all she could bring herself to say. It was partly shock that he was still here, and a lingering fear that if she reacted too forcefully, she would wake up from this wonderful dream she now found herself in. On the journey to work, she found she could not give a flying shit about eco-friendly water bottles. It was strange, because several days ago they had been at the centre of her life. Now, it was all Jaime, Jaime, Jaime. She wondered what he would find for them to do later that day and thought about whether she should message him.

_No, _she told herself resolutely, _you don’t want to seem like a desperate weirdo._

Apparently, he had no such qualms.

_Jaime: _ Miss you already x

All day at work, she could barely concentrate because all she could think about Jaime and how weird her life now was. They had been on two dates and yet this already felt like something serious. Even Oberyn seemed to notice her strange mood.

“What’s up with you? You look like you’ve been kicked in the head by a horse.”

“What?” she asked, taking a little while to register what he had said.

Oberyn pulled a face. “Dazed. Confused. What’s going on?”

Brienne suddenly found herself grinning like an idiot. “I just had an amazing weekend, that’s all.”

“Why?” asked Oberyn as he threw himself down into his swivel chair. “Watch a particularly interesting David Attenborough documentary?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at his sarcasm. Oberyn always thought Brienne a stickler who had no inner life, so she enjoyed shocking him by saying, “no, I’ve just spent a weekend in bed having the most amazing sex with the world’s most incredible man. I’m allowed to be a little shell-shocked.”

That shut Oberyn up for most of the morning, but he eventually felt the need to comment when Brienne spent most of the afternoon answering messages from Jaime rather than doing any work. “Are you going to do that all day?” huffed Oberyn. “We do have work to do, you know?”

“Now you know what it’s like working with you.” After shooting him an annoyed look, she went back to her messages from Jaime.

_Jaime: _Bronn can get us two free tickets to see _Phantom _tonight. Interested? I’ll take you to dinner first?

_Brienne: _Sounds great!

It really did sound great, but she wished she had a better way of saying it. If she was this lifeless and uninteresting in messages, surely he would get bored, surely he would…

_Jaime: _And do you want to know what we are going to do afterwards?

_Brienne: _What?

_Jaime: _We are going to go back to yours and I’m going to fuck you with my tongue again. The sound you made when you came while I was doing that was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my whole life. And you taste _so good._

That made her blush so furiously that she shoved her phone away in her drawer for a good half an hour, but then the thought of what he had said made her want to respond, made her want to tease him.

_Brienne: _And then when we fuck, I’m going to hold you down, so you know that I can do whatever I want to you.

That evening, she met Jaime outside the National Gallery, they went for dinner, and then to see the show. He had smuggled in a pack of _Jelly Babies_, and they got told off by the woman sitting behind them for spending the first half feeding them to each other. Brienne hoped it was because they kept rustling the bag, but she thought it was more likely due to the fact that Jaime would always make a huge song and dance of kissing the tips of her fingers and drawing them into his mouth every time she fed him one. It was a downright indecent display for a Monday night. Brienne paid more attention in the second half but could not help but notice Jaime did not let go of her hand as the score got more emotional. When Christine and Raoul left the Phantom to his torment, Jaime let Brienne cry on his shoulder, and he even offered her tissues and put his arm round her shoulders when she was still sobbing in the foyer.

“It speaks to me,” was the only explanation she could offer him.

He held her hand all the way back to hers, and then without saying a word led her into her bedroom, took off all her clothes, knelt down between her legs and ate her out until she came on his tongue. It was then her turn to take his clothes off and, after kissing every inch of him, rode him furiously, lightly holding his throat as she told him how beautiful he was, that he was hers and she was his. Afterwards, entangled with each other, they gave each other several more orgasms before just holding each other, drifting off to sleep in the other’s arms. When they woke up the next morning, they agreed they didn’t want to sleep in separate beds ever again and came up with a makeshift rota to ensure that was the case.

* * *

On one level, Brienne knew that moving in with someone you had only known three weeks and then immediately dropping the “L” word was certifiably insane. However, she eventually conceded it was not quite as batshit as agreeing to go to Vegas with him a fortnight later so they could be married by a fat Elvis impersonator in the Little White Chapel.

“YOU WHAT?” yelled Sansa down the phone when Brienne left a naked Jaime in their new marital bed in the _Bellagio Hotel _so she could make a sneaky phone call on the loo.

“We got married,” repeated Brienne. “You know when you know, right? That’s what you said about Sandor.”

“But we had been dating three years!”

“Love is love,” said Brienne sagely, making up an aphorism. “I love Jaime and we are not silly kids anymore. We know what we want. I want him and he wants me.”

Sansa didn’t say anything for a moment and Brienne could almost hear the cogs whirring in her friend’s brain. “It’s not that Jaime doesn’t seem a lovely guy… it’s just… you were with Hyle for six months and he cheated on you with a stripper. What makes you think this is different?”

Brienne resented Sansa comparing the unendingly lovely Jaime to Hyle of all people, but even so she held her tongue. “I just know. Jaime wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve known the guy _five weeks._”

“Yes,” hissed Brienne, her temper rising. “I know. And I know _him._You saw him at your parents’ party, you heard what he said. And that’s what he’s like all the time; always sweet and generous and lovely. He can be a sarcastic, smug bastard at times, but he would never hurt me. He loves me.”

Sansa was silent for a moment once again. “But what do you think he wants from you?”

That question confused Brienne. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s be real for a moment,” said Sansa, her voice firm. “Jaime looks like a freaking model and you are a normal person. People like him don’t just fall in love with people like you, Brienne, especially not in the space of five weeks.” It was like Sansa had slapped her, even though she was thousands of miles away. Something invisible gripped Brienne’s throat; it was her own terrors that she had long done battle with, that had made her swear off men, that had told her she was ugly every single day, that made her lie and say she was Daenerys Targaryen in the first place.

There was a silence and then Sansa said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well what did you mean?” asked Brienne, her voice rising. “Because it sounds awfully like you just said I am too ugly for Jaime.”

“No, that’s not what…”

Even as Sansa tried to apologise, Brienne lost her temper. “Don’t you think I already torture myself with that every single day, Sansa? Don’t you think I _know _that? Don’t you think I know that he could go off at any moment with someone better looking? I know I don’t have much to offer him, but for some reason he is here, and he says he loves me, so I’m going to choose to believe him.”

“Brienne, please, I’m sorry…”

“Whatever,” said Brienne furiously, not wanting to listen. Hanging up on Sansa, she slammed her phone down on the side of the bath. The more rational part of her brain was telling her that Sansa was just worried about her and had misspoke, but the other side, the one that had ruled her for so many years, was shouting that Sansa was right and Brienne had to leave now before he got the chance… before he would leave her… because that was only inevitable… he would eventually see this was ridiculous…

“Brienne, are you alright?” It was Jaime. He had entered the bathroom perfectly naked, wonderfully beautiful as always. It made all the old fears that Sansa had just stoked even worse. “You were sort of… shouting.”

“Yes,” she said, getting to her feet even as the tears were welling in her eyes. “I’m absolutely fine.”

He took one look at her and said, “no you’re not,” his voice tense.

“I promise I’m fine, Jaime,” she replied, trying to get past him, even as the tears started rolling down her cheeks. She gave up trying to push past him when he pulled her to him, and in a moment, she just collapsed and sobbed on his shoulder.

“My love,” he said gently, stroking her back. “What is the matter?”

“Sansa,” gulped Brienne as Jaime used his stump to pull her face up to look at him. “She basically told me I was being stupid because a man like you could never love a woman like me.”

He shook his head as he lifted his hand to wipe away her tears. “As I believe I said in another bathroom five weeks ago: men like me and women like you, what does that even mean?”

“You know what it means,” said Brienne gently, putting one hand in his hair, “and you know it matters.”

“No it doesn’t,” said Jaime fiercely. “It doesn’t matter at all. I love you, you love me, and we are husband and wife. Now come back to bed. I won’t have you crying in a toilet on our wedding night.”

“But…”

He looked a little cross. “Sansa does not know what I feel for you, she can’t possibly know. I was married to Cersei for nineteen years and she never once made me as happy as you do, not once. She made me feel small and jealous and insecure. You make me glad to be myself because we just fit together, and we wouldn’t be this perfect for each other if either of us were any other way. So please, don’t let anyone make you feel like you owe me something because of my jawline and your scar. It’s all just a load of crap in comparison to what is real.”

More tears escaped from her eyes at that, even though what he had said was very consoling. “Okay,” she said, taking his hand. She wasn’t quite sure what she had done to deserve him.

“Okay,” he repeated back, smiling at her. “Now come on. I don’t believe you’ve yet explained to me what the Butter Churner is, and we should probably try it out.”

* * *

“You know, you are not contractually obliged to keep hanging onto each other now you are married,” said Tyrion grumpily from his position on the far side of the taxi.

“Oh yes we are,” replied Brienne forthrightly. “If I don’t keep a hold of him, he might run off and go on a date with the real Daenerys Targaryen.”

Jaime chuckled before saying, “and she’ll declare she’s not bothered one way or the other about me and storm off.”

“I’m _so _bothered,” she said, looking him in the eye.

Jaime smirked. “Hot and bothered.”

“Oh god I feel sick,” said Tyrion, as Jaime and Brienne started kissing. “And father won’t be impressed by that display either. I doubt he’d be thrilled if his first sighting of the future Lady of Casterly Rock involves you two swapping spit.”

That was one little thing that Jaime had only casually mentioned to her when they were lying next to the pool at the hotel on their wedding weekend slash honeymoon_. Oh yeah, by the way, I’m the heir to a massive country estate that has been in the family since the sixteenth century._

Consequently, after news broke that Jaime and Brienne had got married, it became vital that Tywin Lannister meet his new daughter-in-law. Jaime was bloody terrified of the idea, and that was mainly why Brienne had invited Tyrion along for the event (for a bit of moral support). It was also why Brienne was holding onto Jaime in the car in the hope that it was comforting.

“He’ll play mind games,” Jaime had said as they got ready to go out. “Don’t let him. Just know that I love you and that’s all that matters.”

That’s why she was a little shocked when Tywin Lannister rushed to the door of Casterly Rock and enveloped her in the world’s most enormous hug, saying, “It’s so lovely to meet you, Brienne. I’ve made brownies. Do you want some?”

As Jaime and Brienne stood in the kitchen with Tywin, him getting brownies out of the oven and saying he was so happy to meet his daughter-in-law and this was the best thing he had heard in ages, Brienne whispered to Jaime, “is this a mind game?”

“I have no idea… but I’m more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

As the afternoon went on, Brienne became more and more convinced it wasn’t a mind game, but Tywin was just genuinely over the moon that Jaime was married to someone who wasn’t his step-sister.

“Brienne, you and Jaime should come out to the holiday home in Antigua for a lovely little second honeymoon.”

“If you want, you can permanently live in Casterly Rock’s guest suite. It would be wonderful to have family closer.”

“Yes, take it. It was Joanna’s, she’d want her daughter-in-law to have her favourite necklace.”

The experience was so weird that Brienne found she was laughing her head off at Jaime and Tyrion’s shell-shocked expressions in the car on the way back home. “I’ve never seen him _smile _like that before,” said Jaime quietly, his expression showing that Tywin Lannister smiling was as shocking as an army of aliens landing in the garden and declaring war.

“Is he dying?” asked Tyrion. “Is he ill?”

Brienne beamed. “No. I think he’s just happy for us.” Jaime and Tyrion gave her an identical expression that told her they thought she had lost her mind. “It’s true!” she insisted. “I honestly think he’s happy for us.”

Eventually, Jaime said, “well… I’m happy for us as well, so that makes two of us.”

Brienne kissed him deeply before whispering, “three of us.”

* * *

Tywin Lannister was the first of their family and friends to accept that Jaime and Brienne were married and were committed to each other, making a go of it, and there was nothing anyone else could do about it. Tyrion came around next, mostly because he found out the real Daenerys had been seeing Daario from Reprographics, which made him realise he had been wrong about Jaime and Daenerys being perfect for each other. Selwyn Tarth had also been overjoyed that Brienne had found The One, although the thought that Jaime’s ex-wife was also his step-sister caused some consternation.

Strangely, of everyone, it was the Starks, including Sansa, who found it most difficult to accept that Brienne was now married, if only because they thought it was perhaps a little quick. However, the scepticism finally, _finally _started abating when Jaime and Brienne decided to renew their vows for their first anniversary and had the big white wedding in a church that all their family and friends wanted.

“I preferred our Elvis wedding,” said Jaime, when they had their not-first dance in a tent in a field later that afternoon. “Although I think your dress is really beautiful, I could see your arse in that teeny-tiny cocktail dress you were wearing in Vegas, so that wins for me.”

“Awww,” Brienne said sarcastically, “you are such a romantic, Jaime.”

“I am,” he replied earnestly. “I also preferred Vegas because that was also where we made our vows, our proper vows, and as I believe you implied on our first date, it is the vows that are much more important than the dress and the cake and the ring… right before you told me I was a pretty boy who only thought with his dick.”

“That was my way of flirting,” she grinned, “because there is a compliment buried in there… somewhere.”

“Oh good, glad to know,” he replied. “Every time you insult me from now on, I’ll take it as a declaration of your undying love.”

She nodded, suddenly earnest. “Please do, because I love you so much. You have made my life immeasurably better.”

Jaime blushed and he looked so adorable that she kissed him. When they broke apart, he said, “right back at ya.”

As dancing allowed them both to keep their arms about each other without everyone accusing them of being lovestruck idiots, they were still dancing at two in the morning, when the DJ turned to music off and they were kicked out of the venue.

* * *

Sansa finally acknowledged that Jaime was a permanent fixture in Brienne’s life when the two of them were sat in Brienne’s ensuite, staring at a little stick.

“Is that a blue line?” asked Brienne. “Shall I read the instructions again?”

“No, we don’t need to read the instructions again because that is without a doubt a blue line. You are pregnant.”

Simultaneous feelings of fear and joy seized at Brienne. “Can I do another one?”

Sansa rolled her eyes, but patiently sat while Brienne pissed on another test, then double checked when the result came up. “Yep. Blue line. You are pregnant. Up the duff. Jaime’s knocked you up. You have a bun in the oven. You’re in the family way. You’re eating for two. You are preggers.”

“Okay, okay,” said Brienne, “I don’t need all the euphemisms. I get it.”

Sansa smiled at her. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even know you and Jaime were trying.”

Brienne laughed. “We weren’t. Apparently, the contraception companies were lying about the effectiveness of their products.” When Sansa gave her a little consoling pat on the shoulder, Brienne said, “maybe I should have sucked him off more.”

“Maybe,” replied Sansa, laughing. “Aren’t you happy about this?”

“Yes,” began Brienne tentatively. “I’m just not sure how Jaime will feel. We said we wanted children, but maybe not so soon…”

Brienne still felt nervous when Jaime came home from visiting Tyrion. The moment he walked through the front door, he shucked off his coat and his prosthetic hand, before marching up to her and pulling her into a passionate kiss. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I’m _so_ horny, I just want to take you to bed and…”

“Jaime,” she said, pushing him away. “Can we talk?”

He looked a little worried. “What’s the serious expression for?”

“You might want to sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.”

He furrowed his brow but, seeing the look in her eyes, he obeyed and sat down on the sofa. Brienne stayed on her feet, pacing back and forwards, trying to find the words. Eventually, she settled on, “I’ve been a bit of an idiot.”

“How?” asked Jaime, the apprehension still not leaving his face.

“I don’t think I took the Pill as regularly as I should have.”

It took a little bit of time for what she was saying to truly sink in and his green eyes remained confused for some time. Then, suddenly, what she was attempting to say hit him. “Are you trying to tell me…?”

“I did two tests and both of them had that blue line that is meant to indicate that I’m…”

Jaime was on his feet and spinning her round and laughing and kissing her in a moment. “You’re pregnant? You’re honestly trying to tell me you are pregnant?”

“Yes,” she grinned, overjoyed and slightly terrified all at the same time.

“Oh my god, oh my god! Brienne! We’re going to be parents! We’re going to be…” The rest of his words were swallowed up by his enthusiastic kisses and it only took a few moments for joy and happiness to quickly transform into unbridled lust. She let him lead her into their bedroom and push her down on the bed.

“Careful!” she laughed.

“I told you I’m horny,” he said, climbing on top of her, trying to unbutton her shirt. “And your news has just made me even more so.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re always horny, and you can’t throw me around as much now as I’m carrying a little one!” At that he went all misty-eyed and started rubbing her belly. “You can stop that right now! While we’ve got to be careful, I’m not having you treat me like I need to be wrapped in cotton wool for the whole of this pregnancy.”

“I’m sorry,” he huffed. “What do you want me to do? Be gentle, or be rough?”

Realising she was trapped between his powerful thighs, she said, “right now, I want you to be rough. Fuck me, Jaime.”

So he did.

* * *

In spite of her protestations, Jaime insisted on being extra careful in most aspects of life. Whenever Brienne went out with Sansa, he always insisted that her best friend look after her and if there were any problems call him immediately.

“I will,” said Sansa, “don’t worry.”

Brienne was secretly hopeful that the pregnancy would finally bring her best friend and her husband into an accord they had not been able to develop due to Sansa’s initial reaction to the wedding. Things definitely looked hopeful as Brienne turned from a normal human being into a beached whale, as Jaime and Sansa conspired together to make sure she had everything she needed. She thought they didn’t notice them whispering together, but she did, and it made her so happy that she did not call them out on it.

The shit only well and truly got serious when Brienne went into labour while she was trying to move the lawnmower out of the shed, and Jaime was the only one there to help her.

“Jaime,” panted Brienne, “please stop screaming.”

“But I can’t!” he yelled, looking up her skirt in horror. “This is like watching my favourite restaurant burn down!”

“What?” said Brienne, confused, even though she was in a fair amount of pain.

“Well,” replied Jaime, going a little red, “_down there _is one of my favourite places to eat out and… oh god I can see the head.”

“Jaime, I don’t think you are being very helpful to Brienne at this moment,” came the soothing voice of Gilly, the emergency services operator from down the phone. “She needs calm and restful…”

“IT’S LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF _ALIEN_!”

Gilly eventually managed to talk Jaime down from his most ridiculous outbursts, with consoling comments that the ambulance was on its way and everything would be alright. At first, it worked, but after half an hour of the same, Jaime was not putting up with that bullshit anymore.

“Where are they?” he asked, squeezing Brienne’s hand. “My wife is currently giving birth on the floor of our shed. Could you please tell them to hurry up?”

There were a few moments of silence and then Gilly said, “I’m sorry to say but they are not coming. Apparently, there has been some sort of protest and the roads are closed outside the hospital. You might have to bring her here and walk the last part.”

“Walk?” moaned Brienne, horrified. “How can I walk?”

In a moment, Jaime had rooted around in Brienne’s pocket, found her phone, and rang Sansa, while keeping Gilly on the other line. “Hey Sansa, it’s Jaime. Can you get your car round here? Ours is at the garage and Brienne has decided to go into labour in the shed.”

“I did not decide…” began Brienne, but she could hear Sansa’s panicked screams on the other end of the line, so promptly shut up.

Ten minutes later, Jaime had Brienne holding his phone so they could still talk to Gilly, while he carried her through the house and onto the front drive, where Sansa and Sandor were waiting with the car.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so excited!” cooed Sansa, as Sandor opened the back door of the car so Jaime could shove Brienne onto the back seat.

“I’m not,” Brienne groaned. “I’ve got a feeling this is going to really… AHHHHHHHHH!”

All the way to the hospital, Jaime kept a hold of Brienne’s hand. “What do you need? Water? Do you want your seatbelt on? Off? Are you hungry? I’ve only got some polos…”

“I need…”

“Paracetamol? I know it’s not a super strong drug, but it might help a little. Ibuprofen? Calpol? I think that might be for fevers, but I’ve got some in the medical box Sansa and I prepared. Do you want to hold my hand? It might help to relieve some of the pain. Hey, not that hard!”

“I need…”

“Sandor, do you have a pillow? Or a blanket? Brienne, do you want to be propped up a bit? That looks like quite an uncomfortable position.”

“Jaime, listen to me.”

“What?”

“I need you to shut up. You’re driving me crazy! This really… AHHHHHHHHH!”

When they got to the hospital, sure enough there was a big protest about NHS cuts, so they had to park down the road. “Can you walk?” asked Jaime gently as he opened the car door.

“Of course I can’t fucking walk!” she snapped. “I’m currently pushing your spawn out of my body… OOOOOWWWWWW!”

Without waiting another moment, Jaime got a hold of Brienne’s legs and pulled her to the edge of the car seat, so he was able to get her out the car and lift her into his arms. “It’s alright, my love, we’re nearly there. I’ll get you to the hospital, don’t worry.”

“I want lots of western medicine,” she moaned, as Sansa got a hold of her feet, taking a little of the weight off Jaime.

Sandor went out front, screaming at protestors to “MOVE OUT THE FUCKING WAY BECAUSE WE HAVE A VERY PREGNANT LADY HERE”, so soon enough they had managed to carve a path through the sea of humans and into the front door of the hospital. Brienne was in so much pain that she lost an understanding of how long it took Jaime, Sansa and the nurses to put her in a wheelchair and transport her to the maternity ward. While Sandor stayed in the café and was put in charge of contacting everybody who needed to know, Jaime and Sansa came in with her.

As Brienne was huffing and puffing away trying to push a watermelon out of a very tiny hole, she heard Sansa turn to Jaime. “That was very sweet, you know?”

“What?”

“Carrying her half the way here.”

Jaime seemingly couldn’t believe that Sansa was giving him a compliment, because his green eyes were wide. “Thanks.”

“My dad did something very similar for my mum when she was giving birth to me,” mused Sansa. Jaime clearly did not know what to say to that, so he let Sansa speak again. “You really must love her.”

Even though she was in an incredible amount of pain, Brienne couldn’t help but feel momentarily heart warmed when Jaime went a little red and said, “I do. Very much.” Brienne would have spent that moment basking in the joy of the fact her husband and her best friend had finally made amends, but then she was overtaken by another contraction so she decided screaming her head off was a better use of her time.

* * *

Joanna Alysanne Lannister was born after an eleven hour labour in which Brienne had both threatened Jaime with death if he stuck that bloody flannel in her face one more time and promised him that him and his cock were never coming near her again. Her sentiments were entirely different by the time she was holding their daughter and Jaime had his arms round them both.

“You are the most amazing woman in the world,” he said, kissing her gently. “I can’t believe what you’ve just given me, on top of everything else.”

“Don’t,” she said wearily. “I look gross.”

“No you don’t, you are glowing,” he insisted, squeezing her tightly. “And anyway, I didn’t say anything about how you look, I just said you are amazing. You just gave our little girl life, you’ve made our family complete, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world… well, you were doing that even before you gave birth.”

“Are you happy?” she asked, tears coming to her eyes. Even now she sometimes struggled to believe that he could be happy with her.

_Bloody hormones._

He looked at her like she was insane. “Of course I am happy, you mad woman. I’m bloody ecstatic. I’ve wanted to be a father for years and now I am. And it’s all thanks to you.” Holding their baby tight, she leant into him as he stroked her hair.

It turned out that Jaime made a very good father. He liked nothing more than doting on his little girl; rocking her, tickling her, feeding her, taking her out for walks, carrying her, kissing her, promising he was always going to look after her. Brienne found she just liked watching these moments, because it made her unbelievably happy that he was so invested in their little set up. When they took Joanna over to the Starks to introduce her for the first time, Jaime insisted on carrying her, and spent lots of time asking Cat lengthy questions about what it was like to raise kids. He only stopped when Brienne removed Joanna from his arms in order to give her to Rickon, who promptly did not hold her properly.

“You’ve got to support her head,” Jaime said, getting to his feet in order to rescue Joanna. “There. Like _that._”

As Joanna grew up, it rapidly became very clear that, in nearly every aspect of her life, she was Jaime’s daughter. She had his gold blonde hair, his lithe frame, his cutting smile, his love for niggling and tormenting, his quick wit. Their similarity meant that Joanna had gleefully taken up the position as a daddy’s girl, and Brienne found she could not begrudge either of them it. Jaime loved doting on her, and their closeness meant that when they went out for walks at the weekend, Joanna would insist that he give her piggybacks, so Brienne was saved that task. Indeed, the only things Joanna seemed to have inherited from Brienne were her imposing height, her never-ending stubbornness, and her blue eyes.

“I’m so glad she’s got your eyes,” Jaime had said one Sunday when Joanna was five, and they were all sitting together on the sofa watching Joanna’s favourite film.

“Shhhhh Daddy,” Joanna had demanded. “This is the best bit!”

“Okay darling,” Jaime had replied indulgently, stroking his daughter’s hair, before mouthing to Brienne, “I am so glad.”

Later that evening, when Joanna was tucked up in bed and Brienne was curled up next to Jaime, she asked him why.

“Why what?”

“Why are you glad she’s got my eyes?” Brienne was genuinely perplexed at this. On any measure, Jaime was objectively more attractive than her, so surely in the long run it would be more beneficial for Joanna to look like him than her.

“Because I love your eyes,” he smiled, “they’re so… blue.”

Brienne snorted. “Oh listen to you, you’re such a poet.”

“Well they are,” he insisted. “And it makes me happy that both my girls have the same eyes. What’s wrong with that?” He leant forward and kissed her, and, once he drew back, he said, “You once told me to look for the blue bits after all.”

There was nothing wrong with anything that Jaime ever said to her, but it was comments like that which made Brienne think that soon she was going to wake up from this dream and find that she was still incurably single. She was just too happy, this was just too good, and she didn’t deserve any of it. And yet, she never woke up. Every year on their anniversary they would get a sitter and Jaime would take her somewhere nice for dinner. They would reminisce about old times, talk about whatever Joanna’s latest drama was, and share really good food, him stealing bits off her plate. Then they would go home and make love like it was that first weekend all over again, although now they spoke with completely frankness.

“I love you,” Jaime whispered, his head resting on her breast.

“I love you too,” she would say, running her fingers through his hair.

They had their ups and downs but being a family with Jaime and Joanna brought Brienne an inner peace she had never had alone. A few years into their marriage, Jaime casually mentioned he was thinking of quitting his job and finally setting up his personal training business. Brienne was nothing other than encouraging, even if it meant for a few months she had to be a little more careful with their shopping budget. Eventually, perhaps due to his _Instagram _account, he managed to get his business up and running, and Brienne could not have been prouder. The worry lines that had characterised Jaime’s brow when he used to work his old job disappeared altogether, and his step appeared much lighter.

Together, the three of them were a happy little family that no one could break up.

That was the way it stayed until, on her eighteenth birthday, Joanna announced she intended to marry her much older boyfriend in a ceremony on Bali in two months’ time. That had resulted in a blazing row at which Jaime had yelled that Joanna did not have his blessing, would never have his blessing, and she was being a stupid idiot.

“You are SUCH A HYPOCRITE!” Joanna screamed as she slammed the front door, storming out the house.

Jaime had never argued with Joanna like that – it had always been Brienne who was the disciplinarian – and the reality of the situation left Jaime upset and distracted. All Brienne could do was sit next to him on the sofa and comfort him, running her hand across his back in an attempt to ameliorate him.

“But Joanna can’t marry him!” objected Jaime.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s only eighteen.”

Brienne raised her eyebrows at him, “I would like to remind you that you and Cersei got married when you were eighteen.”

He scoffed. “Yeah and look how that turned out.”

“Do you have any other objections?” she asked, smiling at him teasingly. “Other than your own bad decisions?”

“Yes, plenty,” he said grumpily. “They’ve only been going out for five months!”

Brienne tried not to sigh, but it was difficult. “If I recall correctly, we went out for five _weeks _before we got married… and don’t you dare say _yeah and look how that turned out._”

She expected Jaime to laugh, but instead he just spoke quietly. “Well, that was different.”

“How so?”

He moved so they were face to face, then put his fingers under her chin. “Fate and destiny were obviously involved in getting us together; our meeting at Waterloo Station was practically star-crossed.”

“If that’s how you want to remember me stealing a book and pretending to be a twenty-four year old triathlete, that’s your prerogative,” she said, before stealing a kiss and putting her hands on his cheeks.

Jaime ignored that, batting her hands away before continuing his rant. “Not only is he older than her, he’s a divorcee, and he has a psycho ex!”

Brienne nearly laughed. “Alright, now you are just being a flaming hypocrite, my darling.”

“Don’t,” he said sadly, “she’s already accused me of that.”

“And with good reason,” said Brienne forcefully. “You two are so alike that sometimes you just can’t see it. Just like you, she is a great romantic, and is totally swept up in the moment with this boyfriend of hers. I’m not happy with her plan either, but there is no use shouting and screaming at her, it will just push her further into his arms, just like Tywin’s objections did for you and Cersei. Why don’t I call her so you can talk properly, mmm? You might be able to sort things out?”

It took a little while to persuade Jaime of that, but eventually Brienne called their daughter and persuaded her to come back to the house. Claiming she had left something upstairs, Brienne left Jaime and Joanna alone in the kitchen to hash it out. In reality, Brienne listened at the door as Jaime told Joanna all about his first marriage to Cersei when he was eighteen, about how he had been so convinced that she was all he ever wanted that he had let her push him down and degrade him and undermine him for years.

“I don’t want that for you, Jo, I honestly don’t. And I’m not saying your boyfriend is the same as my ex-wife, but you have your whole life ahead of you. I could not bear it if you chose to make things hard for yourself when you could just wait and be sure.”

“But why wait when we love each other?” she said.

“I thought I had met the love of my life in Cersei when I was fifteen, but in fact I did not meet her until I was thirty-seven.” At those words, Brienne felt a lump bloom in her throat. “You have your whole life ahead of you for rash decisions. Why make one now?”

Eventually, Jaime persuaded Joanna to see his side of the argument, and it ended in hugs and apologies. As per her dad’s advice, Joanna waited, and then her relationship with the inappropriate boyfriend fizzled out. Brienne was very proud of the fact Jaime had the good grace not to say, “I told you so”, even though it was very hard for him.

“Well done,” Brienne said to him one night in bed. “You’ve handled this admirably.”

“All thanks to you,” he replied, before pulling her close and kissing her.

* * *

If she had calculated correctly, Brienne’s arrival at London Waterloo would give her and Jaime enough time to have a quick drink before going home and stumbling across Joanna’s totally, one-hundred percent “surprise” twentieth anniversary party for them. Even as Brienne was trying to work out what was the best shocked expression she could make, she was getting messages from Jaime.

_Jaime: _She has no idea that we know about this party, so don’t go and open your big mouth and tell her. It will break Jo’s heart.

_Brienne: _You accuse me of being the one with the big mouth? After twenty years, it’s like you don’t know me at all.

_Jaime: _I can’t believe it’s been twenty years sometimes. Feels like yesterday you were giving me the middle finger for beating you at a fake triathlon.

_Brienne: _You did not beat me.

_Jaime: _I so did, I was closer to the door. And if you don’t believe me, when your train gets here, we can have a little rematch and I’ll prove it is twenty minutes from the bowling alley to _The Red Keep._

_Brienne: _That’s not fair! I’m twenty years older and am not hyped up on alcohol and lust.

_Jaime: _Well, I can help with both of them I’m sure :)

_Brienne: _Still super big headed I see!

_Jaime: _You know me, my love x

_Brienne: _Twenty years though.

_Jaime: _I know! Weird. You know what that means though.

_Brienne: _What?

_Jaime: _I’ve been married to you longer than I ever was to Satan.

_Brienne: _Ooooh, I might finally be in contention then.

_Jaime: _What for?

_Brienne: _Love of your life <3

…

_Jaime: _Don’t.

_Brienne: _What?

_Jaime: _Go fishing for compliments. It’s only ever been you.

_Brienne: _And you for me xx

She spent most of the journey dozing and listening to music, so much so that when she eventually got to London Waterloo she almost forgot to get off. Once off the train, she was a little red-faced at her own idiocy, but even so she went in search of Jaime. When she got into the main part of the station, it didn’t take her long to find him because he was wearing a bright red coat. Even though it had been twenty years, she still felt her heart flutter at the sight of him as she jogged towards him. To her, he still looked the same as the night she first met him – _super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot_ – even though there was now more silver in his hair than gold, and there were lines around his eyes. Creeping up on him, he didn’t spot her until she had her arms around him, and had pecked him on the cheek.

“Gotcha,” she laughed.

Turning in her arms, he grinned at her before giving her a quick kiss. When they broke apart, he said, “Hey, you must be Daenerys. My blind date.”

“What?” she said, narrowing her eyes. Smiling at her, he pointed upwards and she realised they were standing directly under the big clock, at the precise spot where they had first met.

Returning his grin, she said, “no, you’ve got the wrong person. My name is Brienne. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Brienne,” he replied, squeezing her. “My name is Jaime. Do you want to go get a drink?”

She smiled. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this very silly story! Once again, it is based on the movie "Man Up", so if you haven't seen it already... go see it! Also, although I keep going on about this, comments and kudos make me tremendously happy and help me improve as a writer, so please let me know what you think of this story.
> 
> Now, this story was the second in my series of Braime fics based on Simon Pegg films. In "A Big Cop in a Small Town" I wanted to explore that staple of Braime tropes, the Slow Burn, and in "Woman Up" the First Date/Meet Cute. For my third fic, I want to take the opposite perspective from the one I have used in "Big Cop" and "Woman Up", as well as tackle that all important part of any good Braime story - the redemption arc. The first chapter should be with you in the next few days, so please subscribe or keep your eyes open to see what is coming next.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you come back for my next story!


End file.
